Decision made by a nod
by Aurora-swan
Summary: Adoption was the original plan. But this? Unplanned and unexpected, but not unwelcome or unloved. Mpreg, parentlock, fluff, johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

**Another mpreg. I kind of got stuck in the subject while writing 'He's a Hamish' and wanted to make a new one, a longer one. **

* * *

For the third time this week Sherlock hung over the toilet bowl. Vomited and dry heaved the only thing that his stomach contained which was acids and he clutched the bowl as his stomach turned. It was painful, hateful, and to damn time consuming. Flushing the waste down he fell with his back to the wall and panted, closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning around him, only his mind spun more. There was a knock on the door, careful and worried and Sherlock glanced at the turning handle. John stepped inside, eyebrows knitted and lips tightly pressed into a thin line. As he laid eyes upon the panting detective he hurried over the floor and fell to his knees beside him.

"Again?" he asked and reached for the towel on the hook to wipe the corners on his mouth. Sherlock just nodded but regretted it quickly, it didn't really help the awful spinning. A warm hand cleared the cold sweat from his brow and he closed his eyes as his head fell back to the wall. "May I?" Fingers pressed to his empty stomach, massaging every gland and organ to search for something that didn't belong there. The doctor didn't find anything but he looked only more worried. "Have you changed anything in your diet?"

"What diet?" Sherlock scoffed but only felt his insides turn as he laughed. He tossed himself over to the bowl and hurled again. John stroke his back and saw the greyish tone in his husband's skin. This needed to end for him soon, or they needed an IV. Sherlock hand't eaten for days. Every time something passed his lips it came up again. He was skinnier than ever and every bone was about to shove out of his skin.

"Let's get you to bed." he murmured and soaked the towel in cold water before washing the detective face. "I'll make you some tea."

"What if I throw up?" he asked with a weak voice and placed his head upon the hand that clutched the porcelain, closed his eyes hand whimpered tiredly.

"I'll get a basin." John said and grabbed him under the arms to help him up. He staggered out of the bathroom, dragging his feet and finally fell down in the bed. With a loud groan he curled up with his head over the side and John barely made it with the basin before he vomited again.

"What's wrong with me, John?" he asked with a whining tone, pinning himself to the sheets and drooling into the bowl. The doctor wiped his mouth again and sighed before he sat down on the edge.

"I don't know, love. But if this continues we need to get you to a hospital." For the first time Sherlock didn't argue to that. All he wanted was for this to go away, and if the hospital was the only way he would gladly go for it. "Do you suffer any pains?"

"Throat." he groaned. "But probably just corrosion from all the acids. And a headache." John took his temperature and pulse.

"Well, you're pretty dehydrated. I'll get you some water." But Sherlock didn't like that idea.  
"It will only make me throw up again." he protested and spat. "I can't eat or swallow anything."

The detective looked very miserable on the bed, sweat soaking his hair, clammy, grey skin, eyes watery, limbs shaking. John actually feared that this might be the beginning of the end for him, and he didn't know what to do. The only thing he was capable of at the moment was just being there for him, helping him lean over the basin, wipe the cold sweat, he had never felt so useless.

* * *

"John! John!?" It was a weeping voice and John couldn't really place where it came from. He opened his eyes in the dark and heard the sobbing from his left. "John?" The detective laid beside him, crying openly under his cover and John was suddenly wide awake.

"What's wrong?" asked and turned on the light on the side table, saw his husband curled up with his back towards him. "Sherlock? Are you crying?" The sobbing got louder and John crawled close behind him.  
"Help me." he cried and his whole body trembled. John took his temperature again, ice cold and skin clammier. "I can't do this anymore." The doctor leaned over him and looked down in the basin, there were patches of blood in the yellowish fluids and that forced John make a decision.

"I will." he whispered and stroke his arm, saw the tears falling down his face. "I'll take you to the hospital, okay?" Sherlock just nodded, sniffled like a little child and John stepped out of bed. "I'll get your coat."

Sherlock was left alone in the room and he closed his eyes, let the world spin faster and faster around him and the pain grew for each second. Then someone was grabbing him, pulling him out of bed and he felt his head drop to his chest. He couldn't stand anymore, not a single limb listened to his commands but John was pulling him out of the bedroom before he could warn him about what was about to happen.

Legs softened under him and he fell into something soft and warm, and that something slowly lowered him to the floor. His name kept on being called and he felt those hands on his face again. In the fogginess of tears and nausea he saw John hovering above him, desperately trying to make contact. Cold towels pressed to his skin and then he saw a flash of pale pink flying past, a woman's voice, mrs Hudson then. He felt her wrinkly fingers clutch his wrist, soothingly stroking his damp curls and the tears burnt the back of his eyes again.

He was so weak, so useless and miserable. His body ashamed him more than ever. He closed his eyes, let himself leave this scene so he didn't have to see their worried face but someone kept poking him every time he did that, forcing him to stay awake.

"Please Sherlock?" John called, voice muffled by ringing and distortion. "Stay awake, just a couple of minutes more."

"John?" he cried with a throat that burned like he'd swallowed hell itself. He didn't speak more.

"There's an ambulance coming, alright. You need help." He didn't argue, he didn't want to live nor die like this. He kept his eyes on John, the only thing around him that seemed familiar, everything else was just a big blur of colours.

Then there was black.

* * *

Like the jolt of an electrocution he shot his eyes open and whimpered for air. Memory completely wiped out of where he was or why. He felt weak, arms stabbed, head throbbing in pain and throat burning as well as his belly.

"Sherlock?" There were noises of rattling china and newspapers and soon John was hovering over him with an awful bed-head. He placed a warm had on his forehead and he blinked the blur out of his eyes to get a clear view of his husband. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes." he slurred and felt the awful dryness in his mouth and before he knew it, a straw tickled the side of his mouth. The water cooled his throat and he drank all the liquid in the paper cup before John took it away. His head fell back, landed on the soft pillow and the warm hand kept caressing his skin. "What happened?"

"The doctors are running some tests." John answered and pressed tender lips to his cheek. "You scared the hell out of me." Sherlock managed to smirk, tried to remember what he'd done to frighten poor John.

"How did I do that?" he asked and squeezed the hand he realised he was holding.

"You fainted in the kitchen, trembled violently until the ambulance came. I didn't know what to do." The detective blinked and looked at him half lidded.

"But you're a doctor." he murmured with a teasing smile and John licked his lips. He didn't have a chance to say anything more before the doctor entered the room with a clipboard in her hands.

"Mr Holmes." she greeted when she saw his blue-green eyes. "Welcome back to the land of the living." Sherlock had seen her for two second and already despited her.

_Recently divorced, she cheated. _

_Religious, heavily so. _

_Mother of two kids, one a teenager. _

_Unpaid loans. _

_Vegetarian. _

He kept his mouth shut, John had taught him not to make enemies with people that wanted to help. She flipped through the papers and sighed loudly. John quickly prepared himself for bad news.  
"Well mr Holmes. Your condition is very unusual amongst men." she started and Sherlock felt himself frown. "First one in Britain in ten years. One in a million." She looked up with her dark eyes and smiled. Good new then. What could be good about his condition? "It seems like you're pregnant."

Like a glasshouse in a heavy hailstorm, his world shattered into a million little pieces. The information he was just given seemed impossible and didn't want to reach his understanding. Pregnant? Him? Wasn't he freaky enough to other people?

"What?" John quaked from his side and fell backward into the chair, staring at the nurse with eyes wide as saucers.

"I understand it must come as quite a shock but.." she took a deep breath and looked at her papers again. "You are in fact expecting."

The detective had had enough, he couldn't bite himself back anymore.

"Get out." he growled and the woman looked up at him. "Get! Out!" She jumped by his high yell and retreated to the corridor. Before John could stop him he pulled out the IV, the electrodes stuck to his chest and slung his legs off the bed when John seized his shoulder.

"Oh no! You're not going anywhere in your state." he said strictly and Sherlock tried to pull free but was way to weak to fight. "Lie down!"

"John!" he growled but he kept pushing him back into the sheets. "Let go of me!"

"You can't run away from this Sherlock!" John fumed and reattached the IV and stickers. "Right now you have to rest, and then we can discuss what we're gonna do about it." He was tucked in again, his chest heaved by anger and shock and he gripped the mattress with his nails. He felt invaded, stolen, disgusted by the thing that had inhabited his insides. He needed to terminate it, get it out this second.  
"It needs out." he fumed and gnashed his teeth.

"You need sleep." John said and took his hand again. "We can talk about this in the morning."

"We're talking about this now!" he thundered and tore himself from John's grip. "This is not happening! It's getting out. It needs to be killed!" John froze when he heard that, stared at his husband with a pair of dark eyes.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he snapped and saliva flew from his lips. "It might not be bigger than a pea right now and I understand if you want an abortion, but using the word 'kill' wile taking that decision is wicked, even for you."

"I wicked!?" the detective shrieked. "If something's wicked it's that thing. It shouldn't even exist!"

"Why?" John asked stared at him. "Why shouldn't it?"

"Because it's not normal!" Sherlock shouted and smashed his hand to the bed, breathed heavily of the lack of energy to be this angry.

"One in a million, Sherlock." his husband reminded him. "It's unusual, but not un-normal." Sherlock tossed his head back to the pillow and groaned loudly.

"What's wrong with you John? It sound like you want to keep it!" Then he saw John's look, eyes teared, lips tightly pressed together, slightly trembling. _Oh. _

The doctor lowered his gaze and staggered backwards to the chair. Not making eye contact again.

"Sleep, Sherlock." he mumbled and faced the wall.

"John?"

"I said sleep!"

Then the room was silent. They didn't speak a word more or looked to each other. Sherlock stared at the roof. Thought about the little creature that had settled in his abdomen.

He and John had a future dream. When they both felt ready they would apply for adoption, save an abandoned child and raise it into the world of crime. It would bring on their legacy, his knowledge in detective work. But not to forget Sherlock really wanted to be a father, he had since he'd met John. He had many times found himself thinking about the moment they would bring him their adopted child, the day he would be able to cradle something so small and care for it. It was a wish buried so deep into his chest and here he was, hating something that could actually bring truth to those wishes except that this little being really belonged to him. Inside him there was a little Holmes's, a perfect combination between him and his John, and he had started out by hating it. Never in his life had he wanted to punch himself so bad.

Tears started to fall down his face and he thought about it. How could he hate it? He had made it, he and John. He was supposed to love it. And then he realised. He did love it.

A sob slipped over his lips and John tore his gaze from the wall, saw the tears and flew up from his chair.

"I am wicked." Sherlock cried and wiped his tears with shaking fingers. "I am truly evil."

"What?" John took his hand and stroke his hair which only made his husband sob more.

"It's our baby, John. How can I even think such thoughts!?" John slowly realised what he was thinking and even his eyes welled up with tears. The next second he pulled him into a hug, let him cry out to his shoulder and he rubbed big circles on his back.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asked with a voice so scared it made the pain in Sherlock's chest worse. How could he say no? A nod was all he managed to give, and it was all John needed. He broke down in tears, cried while he cradled his weak husband and thanked him over and over. They were lucky, he thought. Blessed with the ability to create a child, and he was so happy Sherlock had realised that. They were going to be parents.

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**Hope you enjoyed this fist chapter. There are more to come. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Sexy-time in the bathtub. You're welcome.**

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One day later Sherlock was put on bed rest in his own bedroom. The most boring week since he had pneumonia five years ago. Laptop in his lap and tea on the side table he tried to make the time fly as quick as possible. Malnutrition was the diagnose, and it would probably be a continuos problem as his morning sickness carried on. Easily cured with tea and salted crackers though.

He sipped his sweet drink and did his research on male pregnancy, he needed to learn everything of importance for the upcoming months. John had brought him a book from the hospital, it was old, but informative, Sherlock didn't trust it.

"Websites aren't always the most useful source of information." he said as he entered the room with a pack of Saltines and placed them beside the tea. "Read the book."

"It's ten years old, John." he sighed. "Even the ways and informations of the female pregnancies have updated in those years."

Life had changed at Baker street since they got home. John was literary glowing with happiness and pride and Sherlock could hardly keep his hands off him when he saw like that. Even he was happier, a sudden calm had found him, making it easier for him to put things aside and when he felt bored he only saw it as an opportunity to rest or seduce John. He had to admit that he liked what this child had done to them so far. Life, for once, felt wonderful.

John sat down on the bedside and glanced at the screen. His hand found his husband's abdomen and he stroke it lovingly while nuzzling his temple.

"According to my research, I should be between week seven and nine. Its not bigger than a grape and shall soon have mood swings." he told John who smirked when he heard him.

"That sounds interesting." he smiled and kissed his cheek, nibbled his skin and Sherlock leaned into his touch. "Can it be any worse than it already is?"

"Oh shut up." he groaned and turned his head to kiss him. The doctor closed his laptop and moved it to the floor before embracing him, kissing his neck and grasping his waist. Sherlock wound his arms around his neck and sighed happily. "These things you do to me, John. How do you manage?" John pushed him down in the bed and climbed on top of him, touched every part he could reach and tasted his skin.

"I love you." he murmured and pulled back to take a look at him. "You're such a beautiful creature." Cheeks was rosy, lips pinker, skin glowing, that IV had worked miracles on him. Sherlock chuckled and searched his lips again. "Please read the book." he murmured and entwined their hands. His husband sighed loudly and nibbled his jaw.  
"Fine."

* * *

He did read the book.

And burned it.

Literary.

John came home from work and found Sherlock in his armchair with the laptop in his lap and a fire crackling in the fireplace. The cover of the book was just turning black when he shot the flames a look and he wasn't even surprised.

"Cozy?" he asked and hanged his jacket on the rack before moving over to kiss the top of his husband's head.

"Yes." he murmured and let his head fall back to catch the kiss on his lips instead.

"Guess you didn't find the book informative enough?" John grinned and moved over to the fridge to make a search amongst the body parts to make them dinner.

"No." he answered quietly and sipped his tea in in the steaming cup. "I burns better than teaching."

The doctor just laughed and managed to find some leftover chinese behind the bag of intestine. When did they eat chinese? Opening the pack, an odour so foul it made his stomach turn entered his nose and he made a decision Sherlock would not like.

"We're cleaning this thing."

"What?" Sherlock looked up from the screen as he heard the sounds of plastic-bags and he saw his precious toes land in the big bin. "What are you doing!?" he shrieked and flew across the room to stop his husband. Reaching down in the bin he caught the squishy bag and threw it one the table with a disgusting noise.

"Sherlock! We can continue to live with a fridge that's constantly threatening our health, especially now!" Sherlock frowned and snatched the container with the frontal lobe out of his hands.

"What! There's nothing..." That's when John forced the package of chinese under his nose and the smell made the detective stumble backwards and stagger over to the sink.

"For heavens sake." he croaked and dry heaved into the basin. "That's just evil." The tea escaped his throat but he managed to overlook it when he heard John continue with the cleaning. "Do you know what I had to go through to get those toes?" he croaked and spat.

"You called Molly." John answered, and that was also the end of the story of how Sherlock got his hold of human toes. There was no point in argue. "Sorry, Sherlock. But we can't keep eating the food coming out of this fridge in your state. You wont handle a food poisoning."

The fridge contaminated the air in the kitchen and it didn't really help Sherlock's stomach. The smell of death, mould, overripe fruit and vegetables was all to overwhelming. He staggered out of the room on wobbly legs and fumbled with the lock on the window. Air, he needed air before the spasms in his belly choked him to death.

The huge breathe of London-air exploded in his lungs and he coughed loudly and the awful smells cleared around him. Maybe John was right after all, he would never admit it though.

"You don't need to help." John made clear and binned the rotten tongue. "Just stay there, take some deep breaths and then call someone for takeout. We're buying a new fridge in the morning."

The detective wobbled back to his chair, whimpered by the shock of fragrances in the flat. It was all so overwhelming, he could smell everything. Burning meats, baked bread, oatmeal, ink, perfumes, rubber. The list went on and his already upset stomach made a threatening growl again.

"John." he whimpered and clutched his abdomen. The last thing he wanted was to go through with that horrible sickness once more. "Please stop." But John continued until he could unplug the fridge and pull it away from the wall. "John, please." The world started to swim in his eyes again, all his senses was on a painful edge and he covered his face with his cold hands to keep himself away from it all.

"Sherlock?" he stroke his hands across his face and down to his chin. John was standing in front of him, caressing his arm and smiling lovingly. "It's okay. Everything's gone now." He looked passed him and saw the clean kitchen. How much time had passed without him noticing? "How are you feeling."

"I can smell everything." he groaned and held his breath as his head fell back to the back of the chair. "I don't like it. It's too much."

"I know." he whispered and kissed his cold forehead. "That's why I cleaned the fridge." And suddenly Sherlock was thankful for it. Just imagine what had happened to him if he was the one opening the door without knowing what was in there.

"It was bloody awful." he groaned and loved the way John's fingers massaged his scalp. "Let's not contaminate the new fridge with such horrid odours until my morning sickness is still in progress." John grinned, took his hand and kissed his slim fingers.

"Not after that either." he answered and pulled some of his curls. "You need a shower, love. Let me make you a bath." The detective snickered like a villain, gazed upon his husband with darkened eyes and whispered "Will you join me?"

* * *

The water was warm around them both and the smell of soap overpowered all the other smells that stung his nose. For the first time today, he could relax. The warmth calmed his stomach and muscles and the wonderful feeling of John washing him with the loufa was just utterly magnificent. He sighed loudly and let his head fall back to John's muscular shoulder.

"When I believe you can't look more beautiful you alway find a way to prove me wrong." John murmured in his ear and kissed his jaw. "Just look at you." The spongey loufa travelled over his chest, down over his ribs and down under the surface. But it wasn't the loufa that kept caressing his skin after that. John's rough working fingers tickled his stomach and Sherlock smiled. He knew very well where this was going.

"Dear John." he whispered and tangled his fingers in his short hair. "Your fingers can work miracles on ones body." His doctor chuckled and let his hand travel lower until he reached his price. He stroke his finger over the already engorged head and Sherlock trembled as he did.

"Only your body." he whispered and cupped his member, played with his fingers over his sack and Sherlock moaned silently in his arms. He was always so gentle in the beginning, consumed time like he had a lack of interest for what he was doing and it always annoyed the detective who liked things uptempo.

"John.." he pleaded and bucked into his hand as a desperate try to find friction for his half hard member.

"I'm sorry about earlier." John whispered so close to his ear he could fell the breath of his words. But Sherlock had already forgotten what he was apologising for and just waved it away.

"Yes, yes." he whimpered. "Just carry on, will you." The free hand of the doctor travelled down his side, underneath his thigh and made a swift flick over his cleft, making Sherlock buck up and spread his legs as much as possible in the small space of the bathtub. John's finger circled his puckered entrance, hot puffs of his breath stroke his neck and soon a pair of lips kissed his skin ever so carefully. His hand grasped his hard prick and stroke it once, making Sherlock moan and John nibbled his jaw as he pressed his finger inside him.

"Yes. Oh, John."

His doctor knew the human body so well, it only took him seconds to find his prostate and he made a keening sound as he pressed against it.

"Is this how you want to come?" John asked while tasting his skin and without a warning he slipped a second finger inside him. Sherlock whimpered and gripped his husband's knee with his shaking head, body trembling of lust.

"No." quaked and stopped his moving hand on his prick. "Please... I need.." The fingers left him and he sighed disappointedly as the digits left his desperate prostate.

"Turn around." John growled and Sherlock followed his orders quickly. The bathwater waved as he shifted and wound his legs around his doctor's waist. John pulled him into a bruising kiss, licked his mouth open and played with his tongue. By now Sherlock was painfully hard, ready to beg for it and he pressed himself as close as possible to his body.

Emotions overwhelmed the detective, he could smell the pheromones fuming in the room and the water around them was now colder than their bodies. John lines up to his entrance and with pleasured whimpering Sherlock sank and let it settle inside him. They forgot to move their lips as they joined, they just breathed each others air.

"Y.. You okay?" John asked with a lust-filled voice and Sherlock only managed to nod in response. That was all John needed for permission to snap his hips and Sherlock moaned and pinned himself to his shoulders. The feeling of being filled was so good it cleared his mind until white. No thought or disturbances could ever bother him in this state. He could only feel, he felt John, he felt him moving inside him and everything felt so beautiful.

The haze cleared for a moment and he opened his eyes to look at his lover. Those clear blue eyes was fixed on him, observing him and he carried that loving smile on his parted lips that could make Sherlock melt together with him.

"You're so beautiful." he murmured and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love seeing you like this. So keen and blissful." His hands roamed the detective's body, touching all the parts he loved while he listened to the moans. His thumb flicked his nipple and Sherlock squirmed by the touch and moved to meet his hips, making John loose it. He tangled his fingers in his short hair and tugged it, only making his doctor more desperate for it.

"John." he moaned and nuzzled his temple. "I wont be able to hold back for too long." John kissed the spot under his ear that could make him go crazy with lust and he moved his hips in unison with him.

"Me neither." he whispered and snapped his hips a little faster, sending a moan with every snap over Sherlock kiss-swollen lips. Without him noticing, John circled his fist around his cock and stroke it, making his husband loose his breathing. He moved himself into the fist and down on his cock and John's orgasm sneaked up on him fast when he heard the sounds coming from him.

Sherlock could feel him pulse inside him and that took him over the edge as well. Body trembled violently and he cried in release as he came in the water. John kept him steady, took him through it while he kissed his neck and caught him as he fell to his shoulder.

"Oh, John." he hummed and smiled in satisfaction. "We don't do this often enough." John uttered a tired chuckle and stroke his hand through his curls.

"We do this almost every day." he mumbled and kissed his cheek.

"As I said. Not often enough."

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**So tell me what you think :) **

**Next chapter is already under progress and should be up soon. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for earlier reviews, I'm so glad you like this.**

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The day John got home from a nightshift, he walked out of hell and stepped into armageddon. The time was eight in the morning and the flat was in a state he would never be able to describe. Every box, drawer, shelf, wardrobe, cabinet had been emptied and all the books, papers, folders, beakers, office material laid spread across the floor in the sitting room. John froze in the door, roamed the mess and found Sherlock sitting in his armchair calmingly making notes in his moleskin like the room around him always been like this.

"What happened here?" John inquired and curled his hands in to fists before he had an psychotic break on the man who obviously made this. "What did you do?"

Without taking his eyes of the notes he uncrossed his legs and sighed loudly. Even he was a mess, his sleeping shirt was stained with ink and what seemed like soda of some kind, his trousers was covered with dust and dirt. The only thing that was clean was is precious silk robe and his slippers. Even his fingers was black.

"I couldn't find my pen." he answered and held up the dark green, very expensive pen that he was writing with. That only made John clench his fists harder and he took a deep breath before counting to ten in his head.

"And you decided to ruin the whole flat just to find it!?"  
"It can always be cleaned."

"And who's gonna clean it, Sherlock!?" John fumed and the detective looked up from the book with a confused face. "It's not gonna clean itself and I'm not gonna do it, that's for sure!" Sherlock opened his mouth to answer but not a word left his mouth. His eyes roamed the room and a blush hit his cheeks when he realised what he'd done to their home. Then John saw something that caught him of guard, tears started to well up in his husbands eyes and John frowned when he tossed the book to the floor and disappeared into the bedroom. All John could do was follow him with his stare and he heard him sniffling. Did that just happen or did he just imagine it? He stood frozen in the doorway for a moment and thought about that, Sherlock had actually broken into tears over the mess.

The book on the floor laid open and presented the notes Sherlock had made and he knew he shouldn't pry but todays date was written in the upper corner. He had clearly kept a record of some sort and John was very curious of what exactly so he gave into his urge.

_May 10th_

_Experiencing odd changes. _

_Tastebuds playing tricks. _

_Sorrow lost pen._

_Rage destroyed the flat. _

The rest of the notes was just gibberish that probably just Sherlock could read but John started to get a clear view of what had happen when he wasn't present. Oh.

Rage destroyed the flat. He looked up at the room again and sighed. So this was what he had to live with for a couple of weeks now? He closed the book and placed it on the table before following the detective's steps through the flat. As he entered the bedroom, he saw the man curled up on the bed, sulking like a child and sniffling into the pillow.

"Sherlock?" he asked and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"I can't help it, John." he sneered and hunched as John tried to touch his shoulder. "I tried to turn it off but it doesn't work. I hate it!"

The very tired John fell down behind him and made sure not to touch him, he remembered very well what how Harry behaved when she was expecting her first child. She was a nightmare when she was angry or sad, John just prayed that Sherlock wouldn't be as bad. There was a big chance that he would get punched if he touched the man when he didn't want to.

"I know." he whispered and saw him tremble. "Have you slept anything tonight, love? You look exhausted."  
"There's nothing wrong with me!" he shrieked and pinned himself to the cover as tears threatened to fall again. "Stop implying things!"

"I'm not..." But John swallowed the rest of his words before he just threw fuel on the fire. "I'm sorry. I'll shut up now." Sherlock scoffed and nodded.

"That would be best." he snapped and crawled away from him on the big bed to get as far away as possible. The small sobs continued and John laid the and watched him for a moment, trying to accept the thought of that this was life now, this was what he had to live with.

It didn't bother him, and he was proud of himself because of it. He remembered Clara, that poor woman, when Harry was pregnant. She could call John any time of the day asking for advise how to take care of the lunatic beast she lived with and after two months of those calls, John changed number, lied about how he dropped his phone when he actually just was tired of it. For gods sake, it wasn't his responsibility to make his sister happy in that situation.

But this time it was his responsibility to take care of Sherlock, and he loved that man. He would do anything for him and that was exactly what he was doing at the moment. Right now the detective wanted to be alone, so John grabbed his cover and stepped out of bed. Sherlock turned on the mattress and shot him a teared gaze.

"Where are you going?" he fumed.  
"I need some sleep." he explained with a loving smile. "I'll take the sofa so you can sprawl out on this bed as much as you'd like. Both happy. Right?" His husband didn't answer, just turned his back at him again and sniffled, and that's how John left him.

The sofa had never looked so welcoming. He landed in the cushions and pulled the cover up to his nose to finally get some rest in this messy flat. But he didn't let that bother him right now. He would clean it when he woke up with Sherlock's help or not. He squirmed to make himself comfortable and puffed the pillow under his head. This was better than nothing he thought as he closed his eyes.

He was just about to fall asleep when someone pulled the cover off him and he groaned loudly when the chilly air touched his skin again. The sofa suddenly dipped and he opened his eyes to see his dirty husband crawl down beside him closes to the wall. With a little smile, John reached out his arm and let him place his head on his shoulder before he swaddled them in the cover again.

Sherlock's face was stained by tears when he snuggled closer to John's neck without a word and his dark curls tickled under his nose. He embraced him in his arms and held him tight as he sniffled. Still miserable but calmed, he breathed out to John's neck.

"I'm sorry." he trembled and snaked his arm around his husband's waist. The doctor pressed his lips to the top of his head and played with the curls.

"There's nothing to be sorry about." he told him and Sherlock smirked.

"I destroyed the flat." he said and drew small circles on John's back with his slender finger. "I think that's something I should excuse myself for."

"Don't." he whispered and squeezed his waist with his firm hand. "You are excused for everything weird you do these upcoming months." Sherlock smiled with his lips pressed to his collarbone.

"Thank you."

The firm hand travelled down to his abdomen and the thumb flicked back and forth where the little new cell rested in safety, deep inside Sherlock. No one but them knew it was there and John loved that secret more than anything.

"Do you know when you'll feel it move?" he asked knowing the answer but he wanted to hear it from Sherlock, it was beautiful to hear him speak about the baby.

"Sometime between week fourteen and eighteen." he answered and joined his hand on his stomach. "You wont though, you'll have to wait until week twenty." John chuckled and pressed another kiss to his curls when he suddenly got an idea.

"Wait here for a moment." he said and and stepped out of the sofa. "I'll be back in a sec." He hurried through the flat into the upstairs bedroom to find what he was looking for. In the old medical bag it laid and he grasped it and hurried down the stairs again to fins Sherlock still on his side on the sofa. He crawled down under the cover again and the tired detective opened his eyes and saw the stethoscope in in John's ears.

"What are you doing?" he asked just as the cold knob pressed to his abdomen and he twitched in fright. "John?" But the doctor hushed him and looked for the right spot when a smile cracked his face from ear to hear.

"Listen." he said and gave him the earpieces. Sherlock frowned but took them when John pressed the bud to his chest. He listened to his heartbeats for a while and watched John smile. "That's you." he whispered and dragged the bud over his skin all the way down to the spot where he'd been listening a second earlier. "And here.." Breath hitched in his throat when he heard it.

A heartbeat.

But quicker and smaller. And it all crashed down on him. This was real. There was actually something small and living inside him, something growing. Something that would grow big inside him, something he would feel move around and kick. This was actually happening.

He looked up at John with new tears in his eyes and let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh.

"Christ." he breathed and joined his hand on the stethoscope.

"It's our baby, Sherlock." John chirped and saw how his husband bit back a sob. "It's real."

Sherlock was almost ashamed of himself for being so emotional over the sounds of a heartbeat, but he and John was the ones who'd created that inside him, he started to understand why people called it miracles even if it was easily explained. But there it was, a child not bigger than a grape, but big enough to have a heart. He smiled and looked down on the spot where John was pressing.

"When can we see it?" John asked and once again he knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Sherlock speak about it, to talk about their child.

"Soon." he breathed and sniffled. "I've been keeping track of my measurements. I'm 2,5 inches bigger around my hips and abdomen."

"Really." John smiled and nuzzled his nose with his own. "Are you taking this down or do you just keep tracks in you head?"  
"I'm writing some of it down." he answered and wiped some tears of his cheek before he giggled. "Are we actually doing this, John?"

"What, did you change your mind?" the doctor smirked and Sherlock whipped his head back and forth.

"Never." he smiled and gave back the headset. "This is happening." And with those words John pulled him into a breathtaking hug and held him tight.

"I'm so happy, love." he whispered into his curls. "I don't know what I'd done if you didn't want this." Sherlock just smiled, pressed his forehead to his chest and kept his hand on his abdomen, thinking about the little cell inside him. Then John finally got his sleep.

* * *

The second time Sherlock's mood swings got out of hand, John was lucky enough to be home so he could stop him in time. Only this time the problem couldn't be solved just as easily.

Lestrade called early that morning and it would be the first day out of the house in two week, which also meant that Sherlock would finally step out of his pyjamas for the first time during those days. John tossed and turned in bed to stretch his tired body when he heard the heavy steps and a loud groan in anger. So this morning is already ruined, he thought as the detective flopped down beside him, butt naked.

"What are you doing?" John asked with a morning croaky throat and Sherlock pulled the cover over himself and curled up as he sulked. Something had clearly annoyed him this morning.

"What happened?" Sherlock just shook his head and buried his face in the pillow, kicked the cover to smooth it out over his feet. "Sherlock?" The man groaned loudly again and John snaked his arms around his tensed body.

"I can't button my trousers." he whispered and his ears turned pink by the confession and John bit back in smile. His warm hand travelled over his waist to his abdomen and for the first time he noticed the little swell on his skin and he couldn't fight the twitch in his lips.

"What's this?" he chirped happily and pushed down the cover so he could take a look. His heart jumped when he saw the curve on his skin. "Look at that." He stroke his hand over the tiny swell and felt the heat of his body. "You're starting to show."

"No, I'm not." Sherlock groaned and pulled back the cover, tried to hide from John's gaze. The swell embarrassed him and he still hadn't gotten used to the thought that he would actually get big soon. Even if he wanted this baby he still didn't like the things he had to go through with. "I'm gonna look odd, John. What this child is doing to my vessel... I'm not really comfortable with it." How could he when his body didn't only belong to him anymore? It was now charred with a tiny little being that took all the decisions from now on. When to eat, when to sleep, what to get mad about and what to cry about. This was not acceptable. But he didn't have the heart to hate it for all these complications. Ever since he'd heard those quick little heartbeats he was absolutely besotted in the little creature, which was weird even for him. After all, he hadn't even seen the little thing yet. How was it possible to be so fond of something that hardly existed yet?

"Do you thing you will be?" John asked and joined their hands over the swell.

"Perhaps." he answered and pressed to his skin when something popped inside him. It felt a small flutter of the wings of a butterfly, nothing more and he held his breath and tightened the grip of John's hand. It happened again and this time Sherlock knew what it was. "I..." He smiled and pushed down the cover, forgetting everything about the shame of getting big, and stared at his belly. "I think.. I felt it." he murmured and rolled over on his back beside John who was wide awake by now.

"Really?" the doctor asked excitedly and heaved up on his shoulder to get a better look of the small bump. "What did it feel like?" Sherlock grinned and stroke his thumb back and forth over the area.

"I can still feel it." he smiled and took a deep breath. "It feels like... pops. Very gentle pops." John smiled from ear to ear and tore his gaze from Sherlock's stomach to look at him. Tears was forming in his eyes and he could tell Sherlock both loved and hated his emotional reactions nowadays. "I think its kicking me." All the doctor could do was giggle, he couldn't find the words for this moment to express how extremely happy and excited he was about this.

"Sherlock." he murmured and saw that his detective was going through the same thing as him. Sherlock let out a breathy laugh and wiped his tears. John pressed his lips to his and stroke his curls. "I don't think the problem with unfitting clothes will bother you anymore? Am I right?" A sigh fell trembling over his heart-shaped lips and he squeezed his hands.

"You are very wrong, John. It will bother me. But I can't complain."

* * *

**Please, tell me what your thought are about this chapter. I'm always so excited to hear what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I have come to notice that my chapters are kind of short. I will try to make them a bit longer in the future, but please, enjoy this for now. **

* * *

After that Sherlock was often found with a smile on his lips that reminded John about Mona-Lisa. It was easy to tell he was carrying a secret. John watched him from across the table as he skimmed through the menu and Sherlock through the internet. That little smile was still on his lips and John chuckled.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked and closed the leather bound book.

"The motive for the murder of Charles Hardy." he lied quickly and took a big mouth of water. They were still on the case since last morning, a young boy was found strangled in a dumpster and there weren't as many clues as expected at the crime scene since the body had been discovered seconds before it was mangled by the garbage truck, almost every evidence had been destroyed. "What do you think."

"Well." John started but didn't have time to make his deductions before the waitress appeared beside them and took their order. John decided to try their risotto and ordered a glass of wine and the waitress took it down on the notebook.

"And you sir?" she asked and turned to Sherlock who hadn't taken his eyes of the phone since they walked in.

"I'll have the chicken and roasted vegetables. And stroke the wine for my partner and bring in another pitcher of water instead." John almost fell of his chair when he heard him order and just nodded when the girl gave him a questioning look about the wine.

"You gonna eat?" he asked as the girl hurried of to the kitchen and Sherlock looked up from the screen.

"I'm hungry." he answered and frowned.

"But you're on a case." John scoffed, but happy that his husband was actually eating for the first time during a case. This had never happened before.

"So?" he asked and put his phone aside. "Am I not allowed?" John laughed and shrugged.

"It's just unusual." he answered and poured some water in his own glass. "You never eat during a case." Sherlock frowned and tilted his head.

"Well, you should get used to it. I'm not the one deciding it." The thought of what it actually was that made Sherlock have such an appetite made him smile ridiculously wide and Sherlock smirked when he saw it. "Maybe my... condition will get me into a healthy lifestyle."

"Well, we can only hope." John smiled and scooted his foot over the floor until he reached Sherlock's leg.

* * *

John had to admit that he was very surprised over Sherlock's changes in appetite. He joined him in every meal and sometimes he ever grabbed a snack. From time to time John would find him munching on an apple or a bag of walnuts.

This particular morning he was found with his feet on the table, arms wrapped around his stomach and sleeping with his head on a pillow to the wall. An empty can of conserved corn stood on the table. The telly was on, showing the early morning news and John reached for the clicker to turn it off when a weak voice stopped him.

"I'm watching that." Sherlock mumbled without opening his eyes but John just smirked.

"You're sleeping, you tosser." he said and wound a big blanket around him, grabbed his legs and laid him properly on the sofa. "You can't be up days straight in these times how much you'd even like to." The detective answered him with a tired scoff and stroke big circles on his bump. "You okay?" The doctor joined his hand on the bump and sat down beside him, felt his fingers through the thick blanket. Sherlock sighed and yawned loudly before he could answer.

"Its been moving around all morning." he groaned and pressed at the area under his bellybutton. "It's slightly disturbing."

"Disturbing?" John exclaimed and laughed. "You'll have to get used to that now." That was no news to the detective, and even if the fluttering in his abdomen was uncomfortable he still enjoyed it dearly. Every movement from the child was wonderful, a proof of life, like it always wanted to remind him that it was still there. He smiled but it quickly turned into a yawn and John leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"When should we tell people?" he asked and opened his eyes again, his husband was stroking his curls lovingly and his own hair in every direction on his head. "I'm already showing and it's only getting more obvious every day."

When their friends and loved ones got to know about their secrets John knew how real it would become. It would be the only thing they would talk about in social situations and there would be touching, hugging, kissing and John just hoped Sherlock would be ready for it.

"When ever you want." he answered and fell to his knees on the floor beside the sofa. "Who should we start with?" The smile on Sherlock's lips was more wonderful than anything John had ever seen and he couldn't keep himself from pressing a kiss to the hand and bump hiding under the blanket. "You do realise we have to tell Mycroft as well?" The bump heaved with the big breath of disappointment that made the doctor smirk. "We can't leave him out of this. He's becoming an uncle after all."

The subject made the detective come back to life under the blanket and he twist and turned on the sofa as he thought about all the people they had to tell and tried to foresee all their reactions. As he opened his eyes and looked down on the man listening to his insides after something that he couldn't hear yet he couldn't help the smile twitching his lips. He pulled the hand out under the blanket and places it tenderly upon his husband's head, stroke the dark blond hair.

"Mrs Hudson should know first." he sighed, because she was the only woman that would take this news with most excitement and joy. "She might cry though." John giggled and nodded, stroke his thumb back and forth over the noticeable swell.

"She will." he corrected and pressed another kiss to his stomach.

To be honest, he loved how intimate this baby had made his husband. Any other day he would avoid all sorts of human contact and use sex as a method of distraction, which to say was every day, but sometimes because he simply wanted to, but lately it had been very, very often. John didn't complain though. Sex with Sherlock was alway good, but more delicious when the man was horny.

The day the detective realised how good sex was for distraction. It was the first time they did it, also the first time Sherlock did it ever, and the second the climax swept over him and that whiteness cleared his head, it was like an epiphany. The moment he came too, he leapt out of bed mind so clean that the experiments he'd been working on for months was solved in seconds.

Then it began. As soon as he got stuck in a case and it seemed unsolvable he pulled John into the closest place possible to have sex. It didn't matter if it was a public toilet, a victims bathroom, the floor in their home when the bed was to far away... and the list continued. The only time John said no was that one night night when Sherlock needed "emergency sex aid" close to a reeking dumpster, and he also didn't like the nickname Sherlock had given him.

"I am not going to be called an emergency sex aid!" he'd shouted in the alley as the detective started to fumble with the buttons on his jeans. "And for god's sake! I'm not gonna pound you in the open!"

"I need to clear my head!" the detective shouted back, but John just pulled his pants up and called a cab to do him at home instead.

And even if this morning only was about kissing and holding hands, the doctor enjoyed that almost more. Sherlock had never been a hand-holder or a kiss-before-you-leave-type. These days John could nearly not leave the house without Sherlock panicking, demanding to know his destination, how long he was going to be there, who he would meet. Maybe he was afraid to loose him now when his mood swings was always in motions.

But John would never leave his Sherlock, because what would John be without Sherlock?

He placed his ear to his stomach again and listened intensely and wondered what his husband would do if he started to talk to the bump. Probably call him an idiot and but still laugh. It was time to experiment, as Sherlock would say.

"Can you hear me in there, little one?" he asked and with a small voice. "Are you kicking away?"

"You're an idiot." Sherlock smiled and John just giggled.

"Who shall we tell after Mrs. Hudson?" he continued and felt the slender finger draw circles on his scalp. "Greg?"

"Who's Greg?"

"Oh for gods sake, you need to learn his name. Lestrade of course!" John exclaimed without opening his eyes that he'd closed as he listened.

"Oh..." Sherlock murmured. "I guess. We don't really have so many to tell. My mother perhaps. Mycroft is probably already informed, it wouldn't be a surprise."

"D'you think so?" John frowned.

"Of course he does. He's informed as soon as my name's enrolled in the registers."

"That's.. disappointing." John said and furrowed. He really wanted to see Mycroft's face when they told him, but probably for the best that Sherlock didn't have to tell him. "Well, at least he knows." And then he decided to ask the question that'd been bothering him since the beginning of this pregnancy. It scared him what Sherlock would answer but he needed to know. "Are you going to let him be a part of this child'd life?"

It was like the whole room stopped to breathe, the air just disappeared and John cracked one eye open to look at the detective. He looked calm, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was a sign on the he was thinking hard about it.

"I..." he started but silenced himself by biting down on his bottom lip, sucked on it for a while as he pondered hard. "I guess." he finally said. "They're related after all. It would be right to cut him out."

"We could always use a babysitter when Mrs. Hudson's not around." John encouraged. "And someone that can take him to your mum when you don't want join them for get-togethers and stuff like that."

"The poor kid." Sherlock sighed and they couldn't help themselves from laughing. None of them enjoyed the Holmes's christmas dinners or other holidays. It was always so posh and high-class, none of them fitted in those communities.

But John's head was set in motions, they hadn't really talked about how times would change when the baby was here and it scared him a bit. Questions, that all parents asked themselves, came to mind. Would they be good parents? How would they even handle parenthood? What kind of father would Sherlock be? How would they handle the teenage-years? How would Sherlock handle the fact that crimes had to come second?

He opened his eyes again and looked at the detective who's almost asleep. "D'you think about it a lot?"  
"About what?"

"How life will change."  
"Of course."

"And?"

"It will be an adventure." Sherlock answered like it was the most obvious thing.

And then they were silent. The detective still drawing circles on his skin and John still listening to the silent bump thinking about the words Sherlock just'd spoken. An adventure indeed. Day after day filled with laughter, tears, achievements in the child's growth like the first step, the first word. It would be many firsts to look forward to.

"Names then?" John asked, taking it all a step further into reality. What name would they call through this flat? Did Sherlock have anything planned?

"We can't know that yet." the detective smirked with a wonderful smile on his face.

"Why?"

"Because." Sherlock murmured. "We need to get to know him first." John laughed and lifted his head from the odd angle that strained his neck.

"It's a baby, Sherlock." he smiled and took his hand in his. "All babies those the same thing the first couple of years." But the detective didn't listen, his child would not be like all the others.

"Our child is special, John." he said. "We can't give it a name before we see it."

"So you're basically saying we can't plan any names until it's born?"

"Yes." Sherlock mumbled and John couldn't help his giggle.

"But you must have some names in plan? Some suggestions at least?" But the detective hadn't. He was sure that the first time he held his son or daughter he would know its name, not before. The need to see it before he named it was one of the more important decisions he'd made since the day the diagnose was set.

"No." he sighed. "But, please, do keep your in mind. Feel free to blabber out suggestions, just know that I wont support any of them until the child is here." John laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to his blushing cheek, played with the curls overlapping his bushy brow and observed his wonderful features close.

"Don't mind if I do." he answered and kissed the slender hand in his. "I have a lot of suggestions."

* * *

**So tell me what you think, reviews makes me happy. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait you'll had for the next chapter. I've been caught up in my other parentlock this month but don't worry, this will be finished to. **

**Warnings: Explicit sex. Sickness. **

* * *

"John?" The lovely dream he was having slowly faded away and he shifted in the bed. "John?" The warm pillow invited him to sink into sleep again if something wouldn't start poking him hard on his shoulder. "John?" He cracked an eye open and saw Sherlock standing above him in the dim light, wide awake and a thin smile twitching his lips and the black curls messy on his head.

"You've been awake all night?" he asked when Sherlock suddenly seized his hand and pressed it against his bump. "What.." He was quickly hushed and he closed his mouth and stared at the small swell. Then he felt it, a little prod underneath the skin and he froze in the bed. There it was, absolute proof of life and the closest John would come to the child before it was born. A breath trembled over his lips and he blinked stupidly before he tore his gaze to see his Sherlock.

"It reacts to stimuli like loud noises and when I poke at it." Sherlock smiled and there was another prod. "I don't know if it's a foot or an elbow but... it's there. Do you feel it?"

John heaved himself up and pressed both his hands to his stomach, the small movements continued almost eagerly and he stroke his warm skin. His heart was pounding beneath his ribs and he snaked his arms around the still thin waist and pressed his lips to the swell.

"There you are." he whispered and felt the prod against his chin. "God, I've been waiting for this."

"I know." Sherlock murmured and stroke his fingers through his short hair. "I noticed it when I was making tea. I dropped a cup and he twitched and started kicking." John chuckled and pressed his ear to his stomach and listened.

"He?" he asked and pulled Sherlock down to join him in bed. Sherlock fell down beside him and landed gracefully amongst the sheets and pillows. John was quickly over him, nuzzled his hair and stroke his hand back and forth over his belly. "D'you think it's a boy?" Sherlock uncovered his stomach and joined his hand on his warm skin that had started to stretch.

"I don't know." he murmured happily. "It's just a feeling." Then he felt John nuzzle his temple and pecked his face with light kisses.

"Are you starting to enjoy it? Feeling him move around in there?" Sherlock just nodded, gazed fondly upon his stomach that they both caressed so lovingly and the small prods continued.

"I've gotten used to it." he sighed happily and turned his head to John, pressed his lips to his forehead and hummed in satisfaction. "I enjoy it when you get so eager about this. It's a new side of you." His husband chuckled and pulled up the t-shirt covering him up and inspected the milky skin underneath. "Maybe I shouldn't have woken you."

"Why?" John frowned and tore his gaze from the swell and looked up at Sherlock who played with his hair.

"Obvious reasons." he smirked and snaked a hand down his torso and cupped his bulge hiding in the red pants. "Your erection for example." John chuckled and pressed himself to the warm hand and felt the long fingers play with his sack behind his prick.

"Is that a problem?"

"I think its an advantage for me." Sherlock corrected and let his hand find its way into the pants and he found the hard manhood hiding in there which made him gasp. "You have no idea how horny I've been these last couple of hours. Get naked." And John didn't protest, he squirmed out of his clothes in seconds and saw Sherlock doing the same. Had a hard time with his pants though since that bulge of his stomach was in the way and not making any movements easy these days. "John, help." he sighed and laid flat on the bed with the pants by his knees and his cock twitching against his stomach.

"You clumsy tosser." John giggled and pulled them off, kissed his way down his thighs and shins before he spread his legs. "How d'you want to do this?"

"Quick." Sherlock moaned and positioned himself to make the space wider for John and the man above him. "Just make me come."

"No foreplay then?" John giggled and traced his fingers over his perineum and nudged his puckered entrance.

"None at all." Sherlock answered and that's when John discovered his slick hole and his prick twitched when he understood that the man had prepared himself for him. The detective smirked smugly and grasped his hair, tugged some of his strands and pulled him into a deep kiss.

"Oh, you are a bad man." the doctor growled into his mouth and positioned his prick to his entrance and pushed himself inside. A whimper escaped the detective and his eyes fluttered as he buried his head in the pillow.

"Yes." he murmured and John sucked the skin around his adams apple. "Oh, John. That's brilliant." John moaned and kept himself from thrusting his hips.

"Shut up, Sherlock. You know what your voice does to me." he growled and pressed himself close to the swell taking up the place between them. "Just... keep quiet." The man underneath him took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Don't worry, John. I said quick." And with that John started to move inside him, felt the legs wound around his waist and gave him better access. "I've been fingering myself far to long to let you take your time."

"Of, for god's sake!" John murmured and stopped again. "Don't... Oh Sherlock." Just the thought of Sherlock with his own long finger up his arse could make him come so he tried not to. He tried to think of something else.

"Move, John!" Sherlock moaned desperately and nudged his hips against him. "Please, don't stop." And he picked up speed again, pounded into him and avoided to put to much pressure on the bump that took its place between them. But Sherlock wasn't pleased. "You're useless!" He shouted and pushed him away. "On your back!" The heat abandoned his prick and he whimpered disappointedly by the lack of friction and he fell on his back on the mattress. He was always so good and following orders. Sherlock straddled him and without further notice he sank down on his cock again, moaning as he landed completely on John's crotch. As he shot himself forward, John came across his prostate and the detective went boneless above him, completely lost in all the goodness he was given.

"Oh John! Please." he murmured and braised himself to his chest, felt every thrust like fireworks in his abdomen and John's hands was about to bruise his hips. He knew they both were close.

"Sherlock." John whimpered and stroke his thumb back and forth over his swollen abdomen. "Could you stroke yourself?" It was one of his kinks, one that Sherlock always enjoyed to comply and he reached down for his hard erection and curled his hand around it, gave it one long stroke and uttered his first deep throated moan. He kept in stoking, bouncing on John's cock and heard his husband keening underneath him, calling his name over and over and suddenly Sherlock was so close to the stars he could feel their fire. He meet every thrust with a downward push with his hips and moved his hand quicker around him

"Are you coming?" John asked, eyes swimming with lust and Sherlock observed him sharply, nodded and felt himself flutter and contracting around John. A muffled shout slipped over his lips as he came, spurting over John's muscular stomach and he saw the doctor arch his back. It was now his turn to feel the glorious peek of orgasm and John went through it quietly, like noises would drown the feeling of coming and his warm hands eased the grip around Sherlock's hips, caressed the bruising he'd caused and fell back on the pillow.

"Jesus." he whimpered and licked his lips. Out of breath he opened his eyes again and looked up at Sherlock who was still sitting on his hips, eyes hazed and mouth hanging open as he took his deep breaths. "You okay?" He nodded, his curls divided by the sweat and leaned down and placed himself upon John's chest. Those heart shaped lips found his and John wound his arms around him, kissed him deep and tasted his tongue.

"We still don't do this enough." he murmured into the doctor's mouth and John felt a prod to his skin, smiled as he quickly remembered the cause of it.

"He's kicking away, isn't he?" he asked happily and pressed his forehead against his, let his hand travel from Sherlock's back to his waist.

"He hardly stops." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes.

"What if it's a girl?"

"It's not." the detective answered and smiled. "Shower?"

* * *

They got the call late on the afternoon that day, summer heat was all around them but Sherlock refused to take off his coat. The moment that big coat slipped of his shoulders, his bump would be to obvious to hide and they hadn't even told Mrs. Hudson yet. Lestrade was second on their list, this wasn't the day to tell him either and Sherlock wiped the sweat from his forehead as they sat in the steaming cab on their way to the crime scene.

"Just take it off." John begged and reached out for his hand. "Please, you're gonna get a heatstroke if you gonna hide in that all day." He just shook his head and pulled his hand free from his. It wasn't just the heat that made him sweat, he had a stomachache as well that had bothered him since last night and he pressed a hand to his bump as the burning increased for a few second.

"You've got plenty of water in that bag of yours. Water poisoning would be a more possible outcome than heatstroke." John just groaned and rolled his eyes.  
"It 25 degrees, Sherlock. No one is gonna notice your bump if you unbutton you jacket at least. I can carry the coat for you."

"Oh, shut up." he growled and tossed himself out of the cab as it stopped.

Like the cab wasn't hot enough, stepping out into the sunlight made the black fabric burn against his skin. He sighed angrily and felt the curls stick to his forehead, like the burning around his stomach wasn't enough. Thankfully the alley was shadowed by the high buildings and he hurried to take cover in their cold when he felt the smell of something so foul it made his insides turn.

"Oh christ." he whimpered and staggered over to the cold wall.

"What?" John asked and looked down the alley were the lot of polices stood in their restricted area.  
"Can't you feel that?" he asked and covered his nose with the backside of his hand.

"No, what?" John asked and smelled the air. "I can't feel anything."

Sherlock swallowed and pressed the hand to his chest, his senses was playing him tricks again and he wounded his coat around him again before he kept on his journey down the shadowed alley. But he had to hold his breath, the stench was all around him and a headache was born on the back of his head, pulsing and throbbing painfully.

"Ah, Sherlock!" Lestrade called and lifted the plastic band for them. "I'm sorry about the smell, but the sun has been blazed upon the can and turned it into a bloody owen. Poor sod."

The ducked under the strip when John suddenly took a few steps back and covered his nose.

"Oh, bloody hell. Now I can feel it." he croaked and cleared is throat. "Jesus christ."

"Yeah, it's bad." Lestrade scoffed. "You'll get used to it after a while." He laid his eyes upon Sherlock and observed him from tip to toe before he frowned. "You must be cooking in there! For gods sake, take it off!" Sherlock rolled his eyes but felt his headache throb as he did so, he flinched and closed them hard. "You okay there?"

"Yes." he sighed and tried hard not to throw up by the smell. "Show me." Greg showed them over to the corner of the alley when Sherlock suddenly turned on his heel and shook his head.

"No." he said and covered his mouth. "No." The pain in his head and stomach was becoming stronger and the smell only made it worse. There was no way in hell he would take one step closer to that trash can and breath in that stench.

"Sherlock?" Greg called after him with eyes wide as saucers. John stopped in his step and grabbed his arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked and saw Sherlock misty eyes and clench jaw. "Sherlock?" That's when it happened. Sherlock sways for a bit and then his legs went soft under him. The ground closed in on him but John embraced him just in time and lowered him slowly. "Sherlock!?" His eyes was unfocused and the doctor cradled his head to his chest. "Sherlock? What's going on? What are you feeling?"

He whimpered weakly and stared into the colourful blur around him. The pain was terrible and the smell didn't really help him recover from his fall. He heard John speak, but to far away for him to hear him answer.

"What happened?" Greg shouted when John unfolded the big coat around his husband.

"In my bag! Give me the water!" he shouted and the DI was put to work quickly. "Sherlock? Can you hear me?" The detective blinked confusedly, moaned in pain and John placed a hand upon his bump. "Are you in pain, love?" Greg fell to his knees beside them and opened the bottle when his eyes suddenly found the bump.

"What's that?" he asked and furrowed his brow. John pulled a hanky out of his pocket and gave it to the DI, not planning to answer his question.

"He's got a fever. Help me cool him down." he begged and Greg soaked the fabric with the water. Sherlock moaned again, louder this time and closed his eyes and John, who was already panicking, started to tremble in fear. "Sherlock, please." He looked up at Greg again, still staring at the bump as he patted Sherlock's forehead. "Call an ambulance." he pleaded and Greg saw the tears in his eyes.

"We already did." he answered and met John's eyes. "John, what's wrong with him?" He didn't have time to answer that question before Sherlock started to vibrate in his arms. His whole body trembled and John's eyes widened.

"Oh, shit." he breathed and laid Sherlock flat on the ground. "Sherlock!" He cupped his face as he cramped and stroke his soaked curls out of his face. "Wake up, Sherlock! Come on!" Arms and legs flailed uncontrollably and John felt all his medical knowledge being swept away from his mind. "Don't do this, Sherlock! Please!"

"John! What's happening to him!?"

"Preeclampsia!" John heard himself shout and took the soaked hanky from the DI and pressed it to Sherlock's temple. "C'mon Sherlock! Don't do this!" Soon they heard the salvation of sirens and suddenly the awful cramping started to sooth itself. The detective trembled violently on the ground and started to breath again and John pressed a hand to his bump again. "Sherlock?" Teeth chattered in his mouth as he opened his tired eyes again and found John. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" The detective blinked confusedly again and took a deep breath. "I think you've got preeclampsia, okay? We need to get you to a hospital to check your blood pressure before you get a stroke. But don't worry, as long as you understand me I think we're in the clear." Sherlock just blinked when John saw tears welling his eyes and he pulled him up to his chest again. "It's okay." he whispered and kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, love. I wont let anything happen to you." He took the bottle and brought it to his lips. "Have some water." Sherlock took a few mouthfuls and swallowed before he finally could speak again.

"John." he quaked and managed to bring a hand to his swollen stomach. "Is he okay?" John sighed and played with some of his soaked curls.  
"Yes." he said. "He should be fine." He kissed his temple. "I need you to answer a few questions, okay?" Sherlock nodded. "Where do you live." The detective thought for many second before he answered.

"Baker street." he mumbled. "221B Baker street."

"Good, good." John smiled. "Where were you born?"

"London. 1978."

"Very good, Sherlock. Last question. What's my middle name?" Sherlock grinned tiredly and nuzzled John's shirt.

"Hamish." he answered and closed his eyes. "Can I sleep?" John took a deep breath of relief and kissed his burning forehead.

"Well done, love." he whispered. "You may rest now." And Sherlock did, he fell asleep in his arms like a child and John didn't take his eyes of him until he was safely placed in the ambulance where he finally could breath out. They finally had the help they required. John stood as close as he was aloud to the brits and stroke his curls from his face.

"Where's my coat?" Sherlock murmured and opened his tired eyes again.

"I've got it right here." John smiled and observed as the paramedics checked his blood pressure. "Don't worry, Sherlock."

"My head." he suddenly moaned and bundled up his face in a painful grimace. "It hurts." John reached out and took his hand, nuzzled his temple and peppered it with kisses.

"You'll be fine. You just need some rest."

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**So, leave a review. Tell me what you think and next chapter will be up as soon as it's ready. **


	6. Chapter 6

**So here we area again. I haven't got much to say about this chapter. Just enjoy. **

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He woke up with a jolt and shot his eyes open in the burning white room. The fright of this unknown surrounding caused him to panic and a small whimper passed his chapped lips when he suddenly felt a warm hand around his wrist.

"Sherlock?" a common voice asked him in the blur and he blinked the fog out of his eyes. "Can you hear me?" A headache, different from the one before, pounded and throbbed behind his eyes and all he managed to make as an answer was a small, painful whimper. "Yeah, I know. It hurts. But it's all about to go away, okay?" The warm hand of his doctor caressed his burning forehead and Sherlock relaxed into the soft pillow, felt his heavy head sink deeper and deeper into the fabric and the lights bothering him turned into a soft yellow gloom.

Then he felt it, something small but incredibly big which made all the worry fade away and he opened his eyes again. Finally he could see, and what he saw was all he needed to feel safe again. John.

"He's still kicking." he mumbled like he was surprised, which he also was. The moment his feet had left the ground he thought it was over. There wouldn't be any expansion of their family, no baby feet tip toeing the flat, no cries no giggling no... baby.

But there was a prod, a small boot to his skin but with the power to make a grown man fall off his feet. He stared at John, whose smile was just as soft as the light in the room, eyes glittering with relief and happiness, but yet tears threatened to fall from the dept of those blue eyes.

"Yes." he quaked and leaned down to kiss his clammy forehead. "He's not giving up that easily." Sherlock swallowed all of his fear, not letting himself cry, not showing himself weak.

"Wh-what happened?" he stammered and blinked tiredly again. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's fine." John murmured and smoothed the sheet around his husband nervously. "You, on the other hand, are on bed rest. At least for two weeks. You suffer from preeclampsia and things might take a bad turn if you try running about." But Sherlock didn't plan to protest, he let his eyes slide closed again and took a deep breath that made his bump look even bigger.

"When can I go home?" he asked and pushed the cover down to touch the foot that pressed to his stretched skin under the hospital shirt.

"Tomorrow perhaps." John sighed and joined his hand on the swell, felt the small kicks and prods, not as lively as yesterday but still there. The baby must be just as tired as his father and John uttered a little laugh.

"What?" Sherlock murmured and opened his eyes again, saw the tired John beside him sinking down in the chair. He pushed himself close to the bed and held his hand tight, kissed the slender finger and then held it close to his cheek.

"When you were unconscious." he mumbled reached for a piece of glossy paper on the side table. "They, em.. " He looked at the picture and started to glow. "They did an ultrasound to make sure the foetus was okay and um..." he gave a small giggle and turned the piece of paper to Sherlock who for the first time laid eyes upon the blur of black and white, his baby. He whimpered and felt his face split in two by the smile.

"Look at that." he trembled and swallowed. The white outline of the baby's head sent shivers down his spine and he reached out a shaking hand to touch the tiny features of a nose and forehead.

"Have you ever seen something so beautiful?" John whimpered happily and wiped a couple of tears falling down his cheeks. "That's our little boy." Sherlock huffed a small laugh and felt the tears cling the his eyelashes as he blinked.

"Jesus.." he whimpered and took the small picture to get a closer look.

"It's our baby boy." John giggled and pushed the curls out of his clammy face and kissed the tip of his nose. "Look how small he is."

"Yes." Sherlock smirked tiredly and gazed at the picture with a crocked smile. "He's tiny, isn't he?" John laughed and massaged his scalp with light fingers, brought the tiredness forward in his exhausted man. "Two weeks is a very long time." he murmured disappointedly and John grinned, climbed up in bed and snuggled close to him. Sherlock placed his heavy head upon his shoulder and breathed in the smell that he loved so dearly, pine tree and olive oil, and sunk into the warmth of his husbands embrace.

"It is a long time." John agreed and buried his nose in the many curls. "But you'll have to suffer through it. You're in the the risk zone of having a stroke if you don't rest for a while. You had a seizure today, d'you remember that?" Sherlock sighed and felt the warm hand on his stomach where the prodding so eagerly continued and he started to drift of in John's arms. "Sherlock?"

"No, I..." He was interrupted by a big yawn and he felt the picture fell out of his hands. "I need to sleep."

"Please do." John smiled and pressed his lips to the top of his head. "I'll be here, okay?"

* * *

Sherlock felt nauseous all the way home. Hands pressed to his lips and eyes closed and John held the plastic bag tightly to be prepared for any sudden vomiting.

"You okay?" he asked and stroke his hand back and forth over his arm, felt him tremble and the sweat soaking through his clothes. He didn't answer, just kept position and swallowed painfully as the cab took a turn. "We're almost home, okay? Two more minutes."

The bulge of his stomach was utterly noticeable without the big coat and he didn't just look chubby anymore. He looked pregnant, and John loved the sight of it. A shaking hand was stroking it slowly, trying to calm the worried movements that only upset his stomach more and John didn't know what he could do to help.

Soon enough the cab came to a stop and John hurried to pay the driver and saw how Sherlock tossed himself out on the curb and threw up on the gutter.

"Sherlock!?" John shouted and followed him out in the heat of the sun and saw him braise himself against the wall beside their door. Once again the small breakfast he'd growled at at the hospital found its way back up and dripped down on the ground and Sherlock whimpered miserably. John caressed his back and held his curls away from his face and he vomited a third time. Nothing more than acid left him now. "Let's get you inside, out of those clothes and into the bed." Sherlock managed to nod and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"I'm feeling really dizzy." he moaned and John grasped his arm.

"Just up the stairs and into bed, alright. It's not far."

The stairs must have out on a few steps, it never seemed to end under his feet and he blinked confusedly as he had to take step after step. His back ached, his head was filled with sand that shifted with each movement and his stomach was upset by all the moving around and swimming surrounding. He didn't even know how he ended up on the bed all of a sudden. Someone, John, was pulling his clothes until he was wearing nothing more than pants on the soft cover and his sweat already soaking the bed.

"John?" he moaned and covered his eyes with a heavy arm.

"I'm right here, love." his husband whispered and placed a securing hand on his knee. "I'm gonna make you some tea. There's a basin on the floor if you need to throw up again and the blanket is right beside you if you starting to get cold." He wasn't, the unbarring summer heat was all around them and Sherlock had never suffered as much as he did now. He heard John leave the room and he took a deep breath that stretched his stomach even more and woke up the little being inhabiting his insides.

"Please." he moaned and pressed a hand upon the area where two eager feet was kicking. "Calm down. I can't deal with you right now." Then he heard the small voice of Mrs Hudson in the flat and he uncovered his face to look over to the door, listened intensely as she and John spoke about the visit to the hospital. The woman didn't know the reason for it yet and she started to get worried about his condition. He drew a huge breath and reached for the thin blanket, it would hardly cover his swell.

"John?" he called and hated how weak his voice was. The doctor hurried through the short corridor and appeared in the room with worry written all over his face. Sherlock sighed and let his head fall back in the pillow. "We should just tell her." For a moment, John stared at him in confusion, but then his face lit up and a smile split his face in two when he realised what this meant.

"Really?" he asked and took a step closer to the bed.

"Well, I'm not getting smaller." he croaked and rolled over on his side to curl up under the blanket.

"You don't wanna do it with me?" John asked and placed his warm hand on his forehead again.

"I'm not the hugging-type." he answered and cleared his throat. "Only when it's you. And bring me a glass of water, will you?"

Two minutes later Mrs Hudson was chirping and cheering in the kitchen and John giggled by all the questions she had. Sherlock listened from the bed with a small smile on his chapped lips, thought about what a woman they had to lean on when things when out of hand with this child, after all Mrs Hudson had raised two kids in her days. That's even two more than Sherlock had ever held. He looked down at his stomach and felt something warm coil up inside him, everything started to become real. In four months, Sherlock would be cradle the first child he'd ever held to his chest, stroke those chubby cheeks and kiss those small hands. He longed for it now more than ever before.

The skin around his belly was warm, tight and he smiled as he felt another strong kick at his side. He wondered what he would look like. Maybe he would have John's chubby nose and blond hair with Sherlock's curls and glasz eyes. How ever he turned out, he would be perfect.

John returned with a glass in his hands and a ridiculously happy face.

"Here you go, love." he beamed and sat down on the side of the bed, stroke the curls out of his face as he struggled to sit up. "You're not hungry or anything?"

"What do you think, John." he groaned and gulped the water down. "Would it be okay for me to take a shower at least." The doctor leaned in and kissed his forehead while stroking his thumb back and forth over his temple, even he had felt the warm feeling in his belly as they'd just told an outside person about their secret and he wanted to praise this moment.

"I'll tap up a bath for you." he murmured and took a deep breath of the musky scent of Sherlock. "I can wash your hair if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful." Sherlock sighed and leaned into John's chest, listened to his heart beating quickly behind his ribs and smelt the perfume of Mrs Hudson hiding in the fabric of his jumper. She would always be a hugger. "Tomorrow the whole street will know."

"I guess so." John laughed and smothered his messy curls. "Does that frighten you?" Sherlock nuzzled his husbands neck and thought about that for a second. He didn't feel scared, but there was another feeling growing inside him, branching out in every vein and thought and he snickered tiredly.

"No." he sighed. "I'm just excited."

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**Leave a review please, I always enjoy them. **


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter, sorry for taking my time but a lot of work to be done with both fictions and studying. Here it is anyway, hope you'll enjoy.**

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Two days later Greg climbed the seventeen steps to their flat and was met by the sight of Sherlock laying sprawled on the sofa with a thick duvet wound around him and watching a documentary on mute.

"Hello." he frowned, not seen the detective this lazy in many years. "Everything alright?" Sherlock blinked and turned his head, his curls spreading out on the pillow and a tired smile on his lips.

"Well Lestrade?" he chimed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Just leave those files on the table and I'll have a look at them later." The DI furrowed his brow and stepped over the threshold, placed the files on the edge of the side table and cleared his throat as he ran a hand through his hair.

"You, um... gave us quite a scare the other day? You alright now?"

John padded out of the kitchen, still in his pyjamas and slippers and two bowls of soup in his hands sloshing around with the spoons. The doctor blinked and felt awkwardly over dressed in his suit and coat, these men was clearly not in the mood for work.

"Hello Greg." John smiled and placed and put the down soup next to the file. "Fancy some lemony chicken soup." It wasn't often the DI was given cooked food, many evenings was often spent with microwave food or take out and he had heard rumours about John's chicken soup from mrs Hudson's dozens of times. He was not going to pass this opportunity.

"Alright." he shrugged, slinked out of his coat and fetched a bowl in the kitchen. When he returned he saw Sherlock do something he'd never done in his presence before. The man ate. Now sitting up he scooped up spoon after spoon in his mouth and before Greg managed to sit down on the armrest the detective asked for second. He hardly believed it when Sherlock dug in on his second portion.

"So..." he began and saw John rub Sherlock's back that seemed to be hurting. "What did they say? At the hospital I mean?" The day Sherlock collapsed on the crime scene would always feel fresh in his memory. Never in his life had he seen the detective sick without it being his own fault. All those poisons passing through his body had made Greg see his friend in the worst states and the day he fell he was sure he was back on the stuff. But then he heard the word preeclampsia. He'd heard the word before but couldn't place it. He kept it on his mind and search the web the second Sherlock and John left with the ambulance and almost fainted when he saw the results. Could it really be?

"Fine." John answered with a sigh and sipped the broth. "Everything's fine. Rest is good right now." Sherlock hummed and brought the last spoon to his lips while reaching his bowl out again. The doctor said nothing but made his way out to the kitchen to fill on a third time and Greg had enough and took a big breath before asking the detective.

"Are you pregnant?"

Sherlock tore his gaze from the silent telly and looked sharply at him.

"Yes." he answered simply and blinked. Greg swallowed thickly and felt like a complete idiot.

"Okay..." He didn't know what to say or ask to keep the conversation going, he hated to into a personal conversation with Sherlock, it was a road with many warning signs and dangerous turn offs so he waited for John before continuing.

"Two thirds there." John chuckled as he hurried out from the kitchen. "I guessed you suspected something by now."

"Jesus christ!" Greg exclaimed and put away his plate. "Two thirds?" Sherlock dug into his third serving of soup and leaned back in the sofa, the duvet sliding down and exposing his stomach and Greg got a look of the bump that he thought he'd just imagined on the crime scene.

"Would you like to feel?" he asked while looking very relaxed now when the secret was out. "He's kicking away like a manic right now. Not a big fan of lemon I presume." With fingers swollen by the pregnancy he poked back at the spot where a foot was kicking hard.

"No, I-I should.." he stammered and raised his hands in protest when John chuckled.

"He's not gonna bite." he laughed and joined Sherlock's hand. "C'mon Greg."

The DI swallowed and took a deep breath before slipping down on the seat beside Sherlock, eyeing the bump just to make sure that it was really there. Before making himself mentally prepared John grasped his hand and pressed it to Sherlock's soft bumps and it was just seconds before he felt the first prod. All he could do was gasp and John laughed at his surprised face.

"My goodness." Greg beamed and pressed a little harder. "Are you messing with me right now?" He knew they weren't, but he still couldn't believe that his friends had actually created a new human together. During his quick search he'd stumbled upon male pregnancy and he had heard it being mentioned during his school years, but he didn't quite believe it. Until now. "Is this real?"

"Don't be an idiot, Lestrade." Sherlock groaned pressed down on the small head as the baby tried to stretch. If it was uncomfortable now he couldn't even imagine how it would feel at the end of this condition. "This is something to hard to fake."

"Yes but..." he chuckled. "It's just hard to believe. "You're pregnant, Sherlock. Who saw that coming?"

"Least of all me." the detective murmured and pushed both their hands away, now done with their touches. "Very well. I need to use the bathroom." John smiled and placed a hand on the small of his back and pushed him up from the sofa and Greg got a good look of the big bump as he strolled away, almost waddling. Greg would **never** forget this.

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Normal things was getting hard for Sherlock now when he'd entered the third trimester. Chairs and sofas was now dangerous for him. Not to talk about the bed. A soon as he sat or laid down he was pretty much stuck. He feared every moment John left the flat. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in bed the whole day, starve to death as the baby kicked him in anger as he lacked nutrition.

No shoes fitted his feet anymore. Ankles were swollen and so was his fingers. He could spend minutes eyeing the violin, nearly crying as his swollen fingers stopped him from playing.

This morning it finally got to him. John found him, crawled up the best he could, in the sofa wiping his tears and sniffling between sobs and the doctor stiffened in the doorway. He'd never seen his husband in so much pain before.

"Sherlock?" he quaked and pulled himself out of his frozen state and hurried over to the sofa. "What happened?" Sherlock bundled up his face and choked on a powerful sob while bowing his head as a try to hide. "Hey?" John fell down beside him and gathered him in his arms, stroke his curls and hushed him gently. "What's going on? Why are you so sad?" The detective refused to look at him, now shaking in sorrow and hand smothered over his mouth and John started to fear that something very serious had happened. "Sherlock, please speak to me. Tell me what's going on?"  
"I can't play!" he sobbed and gave in to his body's need and melted into John's touch. He buried his nose to the nape of John's neck, smeared snot and tears over his pyjamas and gripping him tight.

"What are you talking about?" John exclaimed and smothered his wild curls.

"My fingers are to swollen!" Sherlock belted and breathed hard into his skin. "I can't use them properly! They're useless!" John clenched his jaw so he wouldn't laugh, he couldn't understand the pain Sherlock felt for not being able to preform his best. But he knew how much his husband loved to play that violin, it was the best thing he had after a good case and sex and right now every single thing of those were hard. Cases was getting to stressful and strained his back, sex was hard to position and not as impulsive. He thought he at least could have the violin to comfort himself on until the end of the pregnancy but no. Everything had decided to go hard on him.

"Oh, love." John murmured and nuzzled his temple. "Let me have a look." Sherlock lifted his head, hiccuping by the awful sobbing and held out his hands. He was not lying, they could hardly bend properly and he took them both and massaged them gently. "Oh, Sherlock." he sighed with a calm smile. "I'm so sorry." The detective continued to cry with the fringe hiding his eyes. He was miserable to the bone and John bent his head and kissed his fingers. "Two mote months, love. Just two more and it will go back to normal again. But Sherlock shook his head.

"I don't like it." he bawled and whimpered. "I'm useless. I can't do anything."

"You're far from useless." John said quickly and cupped his chin. "Sherlock, look at me." He tilted his head up and Sherlock looked at him behind messy curls and tears to see that lovely smile on John's lips. John just held his gaze, soon seeing the twitch in the corners of his mouth as ever so slowly the smile infected him and soon a small laugh passed his lips. "See." John chuckled and pressed his lips to his forehead. "With that smile you can't be useless." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his pyjamas and Sherlock continued to smile while tears was still falling.

"That doesn't make any sense." he snickered and blinked as John moved the curls out of his face.

"It does to me." the doctor beamed and leaned into kiss his lips. "That smile as so many function on me you can't imagine. I wouldn't call that useless." He managed to make the detective giggle again and John pulled him into another hug.

"It doesn't make me any more able to play the violin, though." he sighed into his neck and sniffled. "My hands are still useless."

"I doubt that." John murmured and suckled the skin on his neck. With a low moan his husband started to relax and John rubbed his back and waist, caught him as he sunk into his embrace. "I know they can work miracles on me."

"Stop." Sherlock smirked and made it sound like 'please, do go on' and John planned to.

"You're beautiful, Sherlock." he murmured and worked his lips up his jaw until he met his lips again. "You'll never be useless to me."

"You're an idiot, John." he giggled and kissed him deep.

"Aren't we all?" John chuckled and brought him down on his back in the sofa and straddled him. Slowly he continued to work his lips down his neck and mouthed his collarbone, nibbled his skin and head the hitch in the detective's breath, just what he was after. As always when Sherlock was in a bad mood it would end with them tangled together, sweaty and satisfied with a big smile on the detective's lips. This morning he was going to make that happen once more. "Sherlock? D'you wanna come with me to the bedroom again?"

"Only if you help me up." Sherlock answered with a smirk and stroke his fingers through his ashy hair. "Otherwise I'm stuck here." With a loving laugh John continued to kiss his way down until he his the curve of his belly and rolled up the t-shirt to kiss his stretched skin.

"Or maybe we should just stay here for a while." he murmured as a small but strong foot his him in the chin. "Hi baby. How you doing in there?" Sherlock groaned at his unintelligence but still enjoyed the closeness of it. To hear John communicate with their unborn child gave him a small insight of what their lives would turn into when he or she was actually born. He observed in silence as he continued to murmur to his skin, asking stupid questions and giving it all sorts of information about the outside. "I like the name Elise." he said suddenly and pressed his ear to the moving bump. Sherlock didn't answer, just smiling and thinking on the name for a second before wrinkling his nose. John chuckled when he saw him. "Alright. What about Alice?" The detective sighed loudly and pondered in silence.

"Better." he answered like he was grading the names. "Maybe." John turned to his bump again and pressed his lips to the skin.

"What d'you think, baby? Did you like Alice?"

"Oh for christ's sake." Sherlock scoffed and let his head fall back to the pillow. "What response d'you expect exactly?" The baby made a frightening turn and he stiffened on the sofa with hands pressed to his sides. "Oh.. hell."

"That is what I'm expecting." John laughed and rubbed his belly. "She's taking out her revenge on you for that." The detective groaned loudly and stretched his back.

"Right on my spine." he moaned in pain and tried to push back in the head at the bottom of his stomach as it stretched. "Damn.." To his relief the baby seemed to calm as John rubbed the head that pressed to his side.

"We should really start making a birth plan." he murmured and rested his head in the big bump. "Have you thought anything about it?" With a big sigh the detective nodded and John could nearly smell the anxiety on him. Something was going on in that big head of his and John frowned worriedly at him. "Love? You okay?" Sherlock nibbled his bottom lip and tapped his fingers to his bump.

"I.. don't..." he started and blinked nervously and John was only going more stiff on top of him. "I don't want to go to the hospital." He was ready for a massive shock from his husband, a tell off for how stupid he was for being so reluctant to being signed into a hospital. But somehow John would never stop to surprise him.

"Okay." he said with a small nod. "We can do that." He almost whimpered in relief by those words and he went completely limp underneath him. "But we're not doing it alone. We need to talk to the midwife first. I don't want to be the one handle everything while you're in pain. When you go into labour I want to take care of you as my husband, not as my patient." Sherlock smiled happily at that, very delighted with John's words and could finally breath out.

"Agreed."

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**Thank you for earlier reviews. Keep 'em coming and I'll be more than pleased.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm terribly sorry about the long hold up. I'll try to do better in the future and I promise you I will conclude this story! **

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John ran up the stairs with the heavy grocery bags and filled with everything Sherlock had demanded during a major row after accidentally dropped a cup of tea in the carpet. Now he was standing here with two tubs of ice cream, a box of chocolate biscuits, more chocolate and lastly a hell loads of milk and food for the rest of the week. But Sherlock was not where he left him. The desk was empty but the computer was still there.  
"Sherlock?" he called out and put away the groceries as quickly as he could before turning to the corridor leading to the bedroom. "Sherlock? You in?" A loud groan was heard from the bathroom and John frowned as he made his way down to the door. Luckily it wasn't locked and the sight made him stiffen on the threshold. Blood was covering the whole sink and Sherlock stood bowed over it with a dripping nose, white as a sheet. "Jesus christ! What happened?" He pulled a towel off the rack and ran over to the scene. "Okay, c'mere." The blood soaked the towel quickly as he held it under Sherlock's nose and he wobbles and trembled where he stood. "Bloody hell, love. Can't I leave you for five minutes without things going wrong?" With careful steps he lead him to the closed toilet seat and sat him down.

"I've got that damn head ache again." he croaked and looked up at John with foggy eyes. "It's killing me." A small whine left him and he took hold of John's arms. "I might faint."

"Don't." John begged in panic and cupped his face with his free hand. "Okay. Stay with me. It's about to stop." Sherlock was about to go transparent and John kept a sharp eye on him as he wiped all the blood off his face. "There. Let's put you to bed."

The detective wobbled dangerously as he helped him on his feet and he carefully led him to the bedroom. He landed on his back on the bed and the cold sweat soaked his shirt and hair. Pain was tearing through his head and he tried to forget about it behind closed eyes and while John so lovingly stroke his hair and tickled his scalp.

"D'you wanna go to the hospital?" the doctor asked carefully and Sherlock hummed in protest and bundled up his face.

"No." he croaked and swallowed with a dry throat. "I just need to sleep for a bit."

To his relief John sat quietly beside him, kept rubbing his waist and petting his forehead. It was heavenly. The small touches was like massage to his hurting brain and he heard himself moan in comfort. The dizziness slowly turned into sleepiness and he cracked an eye open to look at John who was watching him with a furrowed brow.

"Sure you're okay?" he asked. "You feel a little tensed."

"I'm fine." he said quickly and buried half his face in the pillow. But John wouldn't let this go easily. Sherlock's breath was shallow, the cold sweat was dripping from his hair, and he was nearly blue in his skin. In secret he took his pulse, slightly elevated and he was warm despite the cold sweat. Fever then, not too high.

"Sherlock?" he murmured and entwined their hands. "This happened quick. I was gone for less than an hour. What happened?"

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock groaned loudly and stirred on the bed. "Let me rest." John removed his hands from his body and raised from the bed, thinking he should have a talk with mrs Hudson if he'd heard anything when Sherlock suddenly let out a small sob. The detective buried his face in the pillow cried silently and John sat back down again.

"Hey, Sherlock?" he asked in worry and took his hand in his. "What is it love?"

"I don't know." he cried and covered his eyes with a trembling hand. He was shaking and John watched him in panic. Never had he seen Sherlock like this, so out of control of his emotions and fragile. He didn't know what to do.  
"Sherlock?" he whispered and crawled down beside him, gathered him in his arms and kissed his neck. "There's nothing to worry about, love. Ive got you." But Sherlock continued to cry and tremble and the doctor was out of options. After some few second his husband turned in his arms and crawled close, buried his nose in his shirt and hiccuped of all the crying. "Talk to me, Sherlock. What's going on?"

The detective swallowed thickly and ripped his shoulder hard, tried to calm down in his embrace but nowhere near able to do so. Tears wouldn't stop flowing, the sobbing wouldn't stop and the baby kicked in protest at his behaviour.

"My back hurts. My head is about to explode. And I have a cough which makes my pains even worse. I try to sleep but wake up all the time in the need to pee. Baby won't stop kicking. I can't move. And my feet hurts." He let go of a huge sigh as he was done with his complaining and relaxed in his arms. "This is madness, John." he whined and sniffled. "I just want to get a proper night sleep. Be able to eat a full meal and not seven small once a day. I want to be able to move again."

"Two more months, Sherlock." John said as a try to calm him.

"One-thousand-five-hundred hours." Sherlock growled. "Or more."

"Or less." John reminded him quickly and rubbed the small of his back. "Please Sherlock. Don't think about the problems this is causing. Think about what it will give." Sherlock swallowed thickly and blinked. "In two months, more or less, we'll have a little girl or boy to cuddle with. Doesn't that excite you?" The detective whimpered and wiped his tears, gave him a small nod and cleared his thick throat. "Well, maybe we should just forget the pains for a while." He touched his forehead again and felt the heat. "But I do think you're coming down with something. Would you mind if I get my bag?" He wiped his tears once more and shook his head.

John got up and hurried into the bathroom to find medical bag in the back if the cabinet. From the bedroom was a loud sorrowful groan and he hurried back out to see Sherlock rolling over on his back. His back most really be hurting. The bag landed on the side table and he pulled out the thermometer.  
"Are you gonna play doctor on me, doctor?" he croaked and covered his swollen eyes with his arm.

"Of course." John smiled. "Open up." The thermometer stuck under his tongue and he closed his lips around it while John poked around in his bag. "Have you been nauseous or anything?" Sherlock shook his head and sniffled again. "Dizzy or pains in your abdomen?" Sherlock held up a finger to him, signing to the first option. "Okay." He palpated his stomach to see if there was any abnormalities. "Bleedings?" He shook his head and the thermometer beeped. "38,7." the doctor sighed as he removed it from his mouth. "Maybe you're coming down with a cold?"

"Well." the detective sighed. "My nose is clogged like hell. But I'm not snotty or anything."

"Snotty?" John giggled and picked up his stethoscope. "There's a word I've never heard you use before." Sherlock grinned and blocked one of his nostrils and tried to take a deep breath through his open one.

"There's a lot of words you haven't heard me say." he croaked and blocked the other one. "Want some examples? Antiquing, tapestry, juncture, tuxedo. I can go on for hours, John. Would you like me to?"

"No." John chuckled and listened to his heart heart and the baby. "But I've heard you say tuxedo." The detective watched him with half lidded eyes and sniffled again. "When we was planning our wedding. I asked you if you wanted us to dress up or go to the city hall in nothing more than hour day to day clothes. You said there was no way in hell you were putting on a tuxedo."

"That hardly counts." he croaked and rubbed the side of his face, still looking miserable and in pain. "My head is killing me John." The doctor frowned and brought his hands to his neck, carefully pressed to his glands and throat.

"I think you're coming down with a cold." he said as he felt the swollen tonsils. "Maybe a mononucleosis, but that's a worst-case scenario." Sherlock groaned and closed his eyes again. "Is your throat sore?"

"Yes." he mumbled tiredly and rubbed his eye with the heal of his hand. "Maybe. I don't know."

John tilted his head and watched his detective with a weak smile. It was unusual to see his husband sick and he would never like the sight. Sherlock always became so weak and miserable as bacteria reached his system, he looked so vulnerable and small.

"Would you like some soup?" he asked. "Maybe it would help that clogged nose of yours."

The detective sniffled and wiped the flakes of dry blood from the corners of his nose before he nodded, looking very pleased by the mentioning of food.

"Something watery. I can't handle anything musty at the moment."

* * *

Thirty minutes later John reappeared in the bedroom with two bowls of steaming soup and Sherlock tore his gaze from the telly that they'd bought especially for the upcoming bed rest days. They were talking months of snuggling around under the cover. First with a pregnant Sherlock and later with a newborn. The bed was their home for the upcoming year and had been for the past months. A telly seemed obligatory together with the two laptops and the box of books under the bed.

"Here you go." John smiled as he placed the tray on Sherlock's nearly nonexistent lap. "I made some garlic bread as well. D'you think you could handle that?" Sherlock cleared his thick throat and nodded as he fast forwarded the commercial to continue to bury his interest in unsolved mysteries across the world.

John plopped down beside him in bed and helped the man to sit up properly against the headboard by fluffing his pillows and stocking them high behind him. The detective brought his lips to the bowl and slurped it loudly with no intension of using the spoon and John pursed his lips.

"Civilise." he murmured and Sherlock smirked tiredly.

"A can warm both my hands this way." he answered smugly and caught some spinach leaves between his teeth. "You can warm them later if you like. They've been cold all morning."

Then they ate their soup in silence. Well, some silence, Sherlock was making pretty loud noises for eating soup the way he was slurping and John tried to ignore it and listen to the top ten unsolved mysteries about aliens, sudden mayhems, creatures and weird deaths.

"Maybe you should be a part of this." John joked and brought a hand to Sherlock swollen stomach. "Everything of you is an unsolved mystery." Sherlock laughed at that and wiped his mouth with the sleeve if his gown.

"Our baby should be more correct." he smiled. "Conceived by two men."

"Oh, that is quite a mystery." John laughed and pressed his fingers to the little knee that pressed hard to Sherlock's skin. "Are you still convinced it's a boy?"

"I'm certain." the detective answered. "Your suggestions of girls names is a complete waste of time."

"Don't be like that. There's a fifty percent chance of this baby to be a girl and there's nothing you can do about it." Sherlock swallowed his mouth of soup and cleared it throat.

"John."

"Yes."

"It's a boy."

"Shut up." John smirked. "Don't be so sure or you'll be furious when you give birth to a small girls."

"I'm not." Sherlock snickered and pressed a hand to the small of his back with a small groan. "Does he have to kick me in the back?" The pain of having two feet stomping at his spine was terrible. The heals of the foetus were sharper than he'd ever expect and there was nothing he could to about it.

"Maybe she do." John smiled and joined his hand on his back.

"Shut up, John!" Sherlock hissed angrily and put away his bowl to stretch his back properly. "For god's sake, I'm a bloody detective. If I say it's a boy, it's a boy."

But John didn't care about the sex of their baby anymore. Sherlock was suffering from the pain his his back and small whimpers fled his lips and he tried to calm the fanatical kicking.

"Does your back hurt because of the kicking or.."

"No." Sherlock groaned and huffed to calm the pain. "It's been hurting all day. My front is getting too heavy." John placed his soup on the side table and pressed his heated hand to the small of his back.

"Where's the worst of it?" he asked and dug his fingers into his muscles. The detective just screwed his eyes shut and signed lower and the doctor knew that he'd found the spot as a calm hiss fled Sherlock's lips. "Is that better?"

"Yes." he sighed and winced as the baby turned again, now pressing its head to his lungs and its feet to the stretched skin of his stomach. "Much better." He sighed loudly and fell back to the pillow with a slack jaw. "Oh sweet jesus." John smirked and turned to rub his belly instead. The small feet pressed to the area around his bellybutton and he caressed the little heel.

"Two more months." he reminded him. "Then this madness will be over and a new one begins." Sherlock answered that with a loud groan and slid down in the bed after putting away his empty bowl.  
"Thank god for that." he groaned and blinked tiredly, the fever taking its toll on him. "I need some sleep." John smiled and crawled down with him, placed his arms around him and snuggled close with his hand on his bump. Sherlock gave him a low growl, rolled over on his side and placed a pillow between the bump and the bed to even the weight for his back. "But I can't if you're going to be all over me."

"All over you?" John giggled and crawled even closer, wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his belly. "You usually like it when I'm all over you."

"I've got a fever, John." he groaned but didn't make any attempt to shove the hands away. "I'm not in the mood for a cuddle."

"You're not?" John asked with a staged surprise and pressed a kiss to his neck. "What about me sharing some body heat with you then?" With a loud sigh and a few second of thinking about that offer Sherlock relaxed and sank into his embrace, welcomed him and the warmth was exactly what he needed. It didn't take long before he finally fell asleep and John placed a hand on his forehead. Fever was going down, maybe this was a one day thing after all.

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**There we are. I've already started on the next chapter and it shouldn't take too long for it to be posted. But for now, leave a review and tell be what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**New chapter! YeaI! Thank you for all the response this fic's got the last couple of weeks. I was more than shocked to see it reached over a hundred followers!**

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John woke up by the loud groan coming from his husband and he squinted in the bright light of the morning sun. It was still very early and Sherlock had no business being awake yet. The doctor rolled over on his back and ran a hand through his hair looked at his husband who rubbed his bump with two strong hands.

"What's the matter?" John asked with a very hoarse voice and suddenly saw how his stomach bulged forcefully. "Is he having a morning stretch?" The giggle bubbled in his chest and he joined his hands and felt the head press to his skin, making his bump look pointy.

"Get him to stop." Sherlock groaned and pressed back on the bulge with his face bundled up in pain. He whimpered and did what he could to give the child some room or curl back in place again. There wasn't much John could do to stop this but he rubbed firmly on his bump and crawled close.

"C'mon, baby." he murmured with his lips pressed to Sherlock's wait. "You're causing trouble doing that." The bumps softened and the child crawled back into place and a loud groan of relief left the poor detective. He fell back on the pillow and sighed loudly as he could finally relax.

"I need to pee." he growled and threw his legs over the edge. "Help." John smirked and pushed him up to get him out of the bed. The man waddled away with both hands rubbing the small of his back, still groaning and tutting about the problems the size his stomach caused these days.

"Is it okay if I sleep a few more hours?" John asked and snuggled deep into the pillow, relaxing himself to go back into blessed sleep. But it wouldn't be that easy. Sherlock only made it into the bathroom before he started to demand what he wanted for breakfast and his husband could do little less than get himself out of the bed as well. This particular day Sherlock wanted scones. Nothing else would do and John knew better than deny his pregnant husband what he wanted. Even if it was still early he just had to fire up the oven and stir a dough together when a loud shout was heard from the bathroom.  
"John!?"

"What now?" John sighed and wiped his hands on the towel. There wasn't an answer and John turned his head to the corridor. "Sherlock?" A small whine was heard and he started to get worried. "Are you okay?"

"Get me a container of some sort!" Sherlock shouted and back and John frowned. "Quickly!"

"What d'you need it for?" he asked as he made his way to the bathroom, grabbed the plastic tupper ware on his way there.

"I said quickly!" Sherlock huffed as his husband opened the door and found him crawled up in the bathtub, hands playing with a cherry sized spider that tried to run away as quick as possible only to land on the next hand. John froze. He did not get along well with spiders. "John!?"

"Right, um." He stepped over the threshold and padded slowly across the cold floor, keeping an eye on the crawling creature in Sherlock's hands as he reached out the box.

"Please, don't drop it on me." John pleaded and managed not to sound scared as Sherlock tried to brush the spider off his hand into the container. It landed with a small bushing sound and the doctor trembled and put the lid on quickly. "Take it!" Sherlock took it and John stumbled backwards while shaking his hands violently to get that crawling feeling off him.

"What?" the detective asked as he stepped out of the bathtub and watched his husband brush off his clothes.

"You know I don't..." he quaked and washed his hands with a large amount of soap. "Make sure it doesn't run away. A dead spider is better than a gone one." A loud giggle left the detective and he pressed his lips to John's temple, saw the drops of fearful sweat on his brow.

"What ever I'm doing to this thing, he's not going to survive." he laughed and disappeared to the kitchen, John watched his waddle. "How are those scones doing?"

* * *

The tall man was sprawled out on the sofa and table as John entered the sitting room with a tray of steaming scones and tea, watching the news and biting his nails while the other hand rubbed his bump. John smiled, it was in later days that Sherlock really had began paying loving attention to his stomach. It would probably be long before he started talking to it though, possibly never, but John thought that their little son out daughter heard his voice often enough the way he was shouting and yelling during his rows.

The tray was places beside his feet with a rattle and Sherlock reached out a hand for John to place the teacup in. As always John complied to his silent order and gave him the steaming tea that smelled wonderfully sweet.

"Butter a scone for me." he murmured and warmed his hands on the cup before taking a sip that made him sigh joyfully. "Oh, that's wonderful." John smiled and placed a plate with a scone covered with jam and cream on his stomach and it was perfectly balanced on the top of his bump, he laughed silently while Sherlock hummed disappointedly. "Well.."

"At least it's growing." John grinned and made a scone for himself. "It's a beautiful bump, love." With a groan Sherlock bit into his pastry and chewed audibly while making satisfied noises. It was truly a lovely breakfast John had made him and he was sure he would eat more than half of the eight pieces of scones lying in the bread basket before the news was over.

"I've been thinking." John said suddenly and cleaned his throat full of crumbs with a mouthful of tea. "We haven't bought a single furniture yet. I think it's time we head into town and look around for a good cot and cradle before it's too late." Sherlock stiffened on his seat as the thought struck him and he was quickly feeling dumbstruck. How could they've gotten this far without a single thought of the baby's furnitures? He turned to John with a furrowed brow and lips parted as he was about to say something but now a word came out. "You okay?" John asked with a frown and brought the cup to his lips.

"How could we've forgotten?" the detective asked and blinked. "Where did we think he was gonna sleep? In the bottom drawer of our bureau?" John giggled and sipped his drink.

"I just thought you wanted to wait." he smiled. "But you never payed it a thought, did you?"

Sherlock hadn't, which shocked him. How on earth could he've forgotten something so obvious and important? And where would it all fit? Their bedroom could hardly accept another bed, a changing station and all those toys a child needed. Why hadn't he thought of this before?

"I thought you and I could move into the room upstairs and we could redecorate the room down here. I would rather have three-year-old running up the stairs to come look for us than down." Sherlock just stared. Change rooms? Really? That was John's great plan? How would he, with the big bump, be able to move a king-sized bed up the stairs when he already had a couple of extra stones to carry? And how much work did he have to put into the actual redecoration and furniture-assemble? And he thought work would come after the baby was born. But just as if John had read his mind John came with a solution.

"I thought we could call Greg." he said. "He's the only one we know, except Mycroft, that has a car and can help us bring home the boxes and move all the things we're taking with us upstairs while you sit here pouting." He turned to Sherlock with a teasing smile. "I'll assume that's what you're planning to do anyway." The detective was about to protest when he realised there was no point. John's idea of handling this thing seemed like the simpler way of doing it and Sherlock felt way too big to help. "How would you like to paint the room?" The detective licked his fingers to get rid of the sticky jam as he pondered.

"Green is a great colour to enhance productivity." he murmured. "Pale green maybe."

"And curtains?" John asked, smiling ridiculously wide with expectations about this project. "White or.. "  
"Beige." Sherlock sighed and rubbed his waist where a foot kept kicking him. "I do believe in the whole feng shui-thing." His husband laughed and nodded. "No bright colours. And I want the furnitures to be in wood and soft fabrics without the classic teddybear-concept. No clowns, animals, anything that reminds we of some sort of communal daycare centre."

"Alright." John sighed and shook his head, just knowing that this would be a though thing to do now.

* * *

The detective sighed and pulled in his coat to cover the bump while they stepped into the big store filled to the brim with everything an expecting family might need and he held onto John's hand until his fingers started to grow cold by the loss of blood. He didn't like this. Too many people were around, too many that could catch a glimpse of his bump or give them judgemental stares as two men were picking out a cot together. It hadn't bothered him before, but now - it was different with all those hormones.

John held on just as tight and took one of the shopping baskets before pulling his husband to the right side of the store, they had to begin somewhere and John had decided that prams would be a good start. The detective bit down on the inside of his cheek as he stared at all the colourful prams that looked like something that'd travelled back from the future. Everything stank of plastic and some of them looked like small pods that seemed to belong in space. He was not going to be seen in town with one of these.

"No." he said simply and tried to pull John away.

"What d'you mean no?" he frowned. "We have to pick one. We can't carry him or her around."

"HE is not being pushed around in any of these." Sherlock said angrily and waved at the lot of horrible prams. "What happened to leather, wood and metal. To class and style? These... these are horrible." The doctor laughed and had to agree.

"Yeah, but.." he tested the density of ones wheels and grunted. "If you had to pick one..."

"I'm not picking one." Sherlock snarled and scratched his jaw. "They're ugly." John sighed.

"Okay, so you think we should check on ebay or something. Find one from the eighteen hundreds or something?" Sherlock stayed silent and shrugged.

"I think Mycroft has our old pram somewhere in his basement." he said. "I could settle for that one."

"What kind of pram?"

"A dark blue, leather, wooden frames and metal. It's a beautiful pram. Good condition. Antique."

"For goodness sake." John laughed and shook his head but it did sound better than standing in the middle of a store arguing. "Alright, lets drop by later and give it a look." Sherlock nodded thankfully and they moved over to the many different beds and cradles and here Sherlock was more hopeful. At least some of them were made in wood and not stinking plastic. The doctor closed in on one of the cots that Sherlock had been paying more attention to and caressed the dark cherrywood that formed the oval bed with white translucent cotton hanging over it.

"This is a beautiful bed." he smiled as he imagined their son or daughter lying on the soft mattress at the bottom, surrounded by the dark wooden railings. "What d'you think, Sherlock?"

"It's fine, I guess." he lied when what he really wanted was to pack that cot up and bring it home and sleep in it himself. "How much?" John grinned and reached for the label.

"Do we dare?" he asked himself and turned it over. "Do we have a budget?"

"I've got money." Sherlock said quickly. "Mommy started two accounts for me and Mycroft that would be there for us to use when the time came for us to be parents. I guess it's time to use it now." John looked up from the four digit number and licked his lips.

"Really? Because I don't think I could afford this with my salary."

"Well, we're not leaving without it." Sherlock said determined. "This is the cot our son is sleeping in. No other." And right there and then John realised how important it was for Sherlock that their child had the best of the best. Money wasn't the problem, the design was, and this was probably the only bed that would leave Sherlock satisfied.

"Alright then. Then we have a bed settled." he said happily and pulled Sherlock into a deep kiss. "Do we want a cradle too, or.."

"Yes." Sherlock said quickly. "He's sleeping with us for the first couple of weeks and we can't assemble the cot upstairs and then bring it down. We can use the cradle in the sitting room later?"

They moved over to the next isle and the detective quickly found a cradle that matched the cot. Same material, same colour and the same shroud hanging over it to cover the fragile baby's face from direct sunlight and a smiled started to grow on his face. Even he started to realise how real this was getting and he picked out three different bed sets in soft cotton without any horrible patterns. The picked out a changing station, carseat, highchair, blankets, play mat and John started to worry about the prices while Sherlock seemed completely calm. But then again only he knew how much his mother had put on that account, John knew that Sherlock came from a very wealthy family.

Then they picked out a mobile and this time John got to choose. He picked one with stars, planets and spaceships and Sherlock groaned at the sight of it but John told him it were better than bugs or flowers, that their child even might learn something by this one. Sherlock didn't know if that was a taunt or not.

Then they turned to the clothes and the detective nibbled his bottom lip as John browsed the oncies and rompers. He couldn't believe how small the clothes were and that their baby would actually fit in these. He reached out for a plain white cotton romper and caressed the fabric with a light touch, holding back the smile that twitched the corners of his lips. All he could to was imagine how his son would look in this while resting in his arms and his stomach started to get very warm.

"Let's pick out one dress at least." John said while observing his longing husband. "Just in case." Sherlock didn't protest, just nodded while and folded the little romper and put it in the basked. One dress couldn't hurt, they could always give it away, he thought as he turned to the little caps and thumbless mittens. He wondered if their son would have blond or dark hair, curls or straight. Then he realised that this was the first time he'd ever thought about how their baby would look. Whose nose would he have, whose eyes, whose heart and whose brain. He pressed a hand to the side of his bump and smiled secretly and suddenly he understood why John had called him Mona Lisa in the beginning of the pregnancy.

He picked out a green little cap and matching mittens to put in the basket when he realised that John had filled it with nappies, bottles, pacifiers and wet wipes, he'd forgotten about those parts. Feeding and cleaning, this child would have demands of his own and Sherlock felt the need to pick up a new mole skin after this to keep track of his son's developments after he is born.

"Let's see if Greg can swing us by the paint-shop after this and we can pick out some colours. I can start in the morning to pain the room and then we can put all this together." Sherlock nodded silently and looked up at John with glittering eyes that made the doctor stiffen. "What?" The detective opened his mouth, then closed it, not really knowing what to say to express what was going on inside him.

"It..." he murmured and let out a small laugh. "It just became so real." John smiled and turned away from the essential need shelves to embrace his nearly shaking husband and Sherlock fell into his chest. He tangled his fingers in his short hair and took a deep breath of him. "We're having a baby, John."

"Yes." John laughed happily. "Yes we are, Sherlock." The detective sighed when he felt his husband rubbing the bump and pressed a little closer. "How 'bout that?" A few tears fell down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them on John's shoulder before lifting his head again, hoping that nothing showed from his emotional outburst and John kissed his lips. "Just a few more things and then we can go home, okay?" Sherlock nodded and rubbed a hand across his face when his eyes fell upon the shelf filled to the brim with different teddybears. One couldn't hurt, he thought and hurried over to the crown of stuffed animals to pick one out. He decided quickly and reached out and grabbed one of the many arms of the knitted squid.

"Really?" John grinned and looked at the pinkish creature in Sherlock's hands. "Of all the teddies you pick the octopus."

"It's perfect, John." he beamed and pressed on the soft head. "When a child is born the first thing it will miss is holding on to the cord. Imagine what all these arms will provide for him, they're the perfect size." John was taken aback by Sherlock genius idea of why a squid was the perfect teddy for a newborn and suddenly all the bears, dogs, cats and rabbits seemed to not be as idealistic as this little creature and he reached out to touch one of the curled arms.

"Alright." he smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's shoulder "So we've got everything except a pram then. Or is there something else we need?" The detective shook his head and put the squid in the basked with the rest of the thing they could actually carry. "Then we're done here."

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**As always, leave a review and tell me what you think. They'll always make me happy :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**If you read any of my other fanfictions you'll know that I broke my glasses a couple of weeks ago and haven't afforded new ones yet. That's why there's been such a long hold up on all of my stories because it's been really hard to write and read without them. **

**Anyway, here's a new chapter, if there are any big mistakes it's because I haven't been able to see them :)**

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Greg drove them around all London to get the rest of the supplies needed to make a nursery out of their old bedroom. The furnitures just made it into the rented trailer and the trunk was filled to the rim with buckets of paint, brushes and clothes. Of course Sherlock brought nothing up the stairs but himself and his heavy bump leaving John and Greg to take care of the load. Before he even made it up Mrs Hudson appeared in the doorway with yellow gloves covering his hands to her elbows and a colourful apron around her front.

"Oh, hello!" she sang happily and Sherlock saw the dirt on her gear. "I just did some quick cleaning in the kitchen. John told me about your shopping so I thought I would make the place a little shinier before it you brought it in."

"Oh, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock sighed with a smile and a little out of breath after climbing the steps. The extra weight didn't really make moving easy. "There was no need." The old woman giggled and waved it off before grabbing his wrist to pull him into the flat.

"Now, you sit down and I'll make you a nice cup of tea." she smiled and put him down on the sofa. "You shouldn't be overworking yourself in your condition." The words just kept coming out of her mouth as she disappeared into the kitchen and he heard the rattling of china and the boiler. But it was soon to be drowned by the loud noises of John and Greg fighting with the big boxes so Sherlock took the opportunity to look as tired as possible before they would ask for any sort of help, and to be fare he did feel very tired. He slipped down on the sofa until his head rested to the soft cushion and feet on the table.  
"Sherlock?" John panted as he stepped through the door dragging the big box that contained the big changing station. "You could at least brought the clothes up."

"No." he sighed and rubbed his bump with both hands. "Baby's fussy." The box landed on the floor and Greg took the time to roll up his sleeves.  
"I hope you'll get me a beer after this." he complained and smothered his grey hair back. "Or at least some pizza." Sherlock groaned and rolled his head back and forth on the pillow.

"Yes, some beer and pizza is of course your payment." John smiled and made his way over to Sherlock. A warm hand joined his on the bump and Sherlock opened his eyes to see the gentle smile on his husbands lips. "You okay?" The detective sighed loudly and made himself more miserable than he really was in the sofa.

"Just move that ned for me so I can go to sleep." John laughed and rubbed his waist.

"Yeah, we're not moving it today. We need to clean the upstairs first. Go to bed if you need to." The detective groaned and reached out his arms.

"Help me up." he sighed and John grinned as he pulled him up from the seat. "I'm just gonna take a nap." The man waddled away while rubbing his bump and Greg followed him with his silvery eyes, waiting for him to disappear into the corridor before turning back to John again.

"Everything alright with him?" he asked and followed the doctor down the stairs to get the next box.

"Yeah, baby's been a little fuzzy lately." John answered and opened the heavy doors to the trailer. "Poking at awkward places and making his skin itchy. He finds it annoying." With a grunt they got the second box out and dragged it inside, just as heavy as the first one.

"So.." Greg groaned as he took the first step. "How many are you planning on? Just the one or..."

"Yeah, I guess so." John smiled. "I don't think Sherlock is the type who wants more. He starter off not liking the one, so I don't think we're planning for more."

"What d'you mean not liking the one?" Greg asked with terror in his voice. "What? He didn't want it?"

"It came like a shock." John defended and lowered his voice the closer they got to the flat. "I don't think many men would react positively to those kind of news. But he came over it pretty quick."

"Yeah? How long did it take? A week?" John laughed loudly as he remembered the night at the hospital.

"More like two minutes." he grinned and dropped the box against the wall. "It's all been going uphill since then. Few setbacks maybe, but I think he's happier than ever." The policeman grinned and stretched his back while wobbling back and forth on his feet, saw the glow and hope in the father to be.

"You're a lucky man, John." he smiled while shaking his head like didn't believe any of this. "Or maybe I should say Sherlock is. Who knew that he would end up in these tracks eventually." John tried to wave his words away as they made their way down the stairs again. "I can honestly say that you saved his life, John."

"Oh, c'mon!" John laughed and spun around, expecting to see a playful smirk on his friend face but was met by something completely different. Greg carried a very serious face, almost thankful and John cleared his throat and tried to shake the playful feeling off him. "H-how exactly?" Greg shrugged and stepped over the curb to get to the trailer. There was something about him today and John couldn't really put his finger on what. He seemed friendlier than ever and John was almost nervous to talk to him on such a personal level.

"I don't know." he grinned and shrugged again, leaned against the trailer and rubbed his neck. "It's kind of funny when you think about it but.. that day Sherlock brought you to the crime scene, you know, study in pink, it was like a completely different Sherlock." The doctor felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he heard those words and he lowered his gaze to his shoes. "What I'm trying to tell you is... um.." Greg continued and started to realise himself how awkward this was getting. "Before he met you he was on a dangerous path. He just wanted to impress and prove himself and sometimes he could even be dangerous to be around, but when you stepped in all of that changed. Sure, he can still be an arse but it's like you make him see the errors he might do to people and that he tries to be good. And when I say that you've saved his life, I mean that if he continued to live with his dangerous deductions and pissing people off someone would soon have pulled a knife on him." John didn't know if he should laugh or frown at that but he managed to give his friend a crocket smile. "You brought out a side of him that no one of us thought existed."

* * *

Those words warmed John for the rest of the afternoon and he couldn't stop smiling. He's never known exactly how Sherlock acted around people before he knew him, but after the talk with Greg he'd gotten a blurry picture of it. John never though he's had such an effect on Sherlock that the man tried to show a better side of himself just after a couple of hours of knowing each other. Suddenly he believed in the theory about soul mates and his stomach tingled like he'd just fallen in love with his husband all over again and the minute Lestrade left with the promise of a pint this weekend John sneaked into the bedroom.

Sherlock was completely knocked out on the bed, snoring lightly and one hand resting upon the bump. Padding across the floor he joined the hand and carded the other one through his curls. The sight of him made his head go all fuzzy, his husband was as beautiful as ever, if not more, and John smiled giddily.

"Sherlock?" he whispered and rubbed his stomach a little to cause some disturbance to his sleep. "Wake up love." The detective hummed and rolled his head on the pillow. Slowly he started to wake up and opened his blue green eyes, blinked tiredly and sighed loudly before looking up at John. "Hello."

"What time is it?" Sherlock croaked and rubbed his eye with the heal of his hand.

"Half past five." John answered him and pressed a kiss to his brow. "I thought I would wake you know so you're not up all night. I thought we could order in some food and watch a movie tonight, what d'you think about that?" His husband yawned loudly and hummed in agreement.

"Sounds good." he smiled and when John suddenly joined him in the bed and crawled up close. Dry lips pressed to his neck and the detective understood quickly what his husband really wanted from him. He was not going to protest. "I assume you've other plans so start with?" A small chuckle came from the doctor and his hand travelled over his chest and Sherlock arched into the touch. There was nothing better than having John's hands on him, those short fingers were miracle workers and as his thumbs brushed over his sensitive nipple a small moan left him. "Careful." he murmured. "They're very tender." John heaved himself up on his elbow and hovered above him for some seconds, observed everything he lover about him. Those little wrinkles by his eyes, the freckles here and there, the shape of his lips, the colour of his eyes and the tingle in his stomach was nearly painful by now. He gave Sherlock a quick peck on his lips to see if it changed and twinned one of his curls.

"I love you." he murmured and the detective smiled tiredly.

"Feeling are mutual." he answered and John giggled, gave his head a swat and pecked his nose.

"I wanna hear you say it." he laughed, pressed himself until his taut stomach touched Sherlock's waist. "Just this once." This time it was Sherlock who giggled and he flung his arms around John's neck, stroke his fingers through his short hair and nuzzled his nose.

"They're just words." he murmured and felt the baby kick excitedly against his stretched skin, possibly reacting to the hormones being released inside him by John's simple touches.

"Yes, but I want to hear them sometimes." he whispered and kissed him. "Please." The detective chuckled and felt the heat on his cheeks, John deserved to heard it.

"I love you." he whispered into his lips with a sneaky smile and cupped John's cheek. "You know I do." John hummed happily and pried his mouth open with his eager tongue to taste him more, Sherlock obeyed in haste and hummed joyfully as he tried to force him closer. His shirt had never come off as fast and Sherlock wondered what might have driven his husband to this, not that he was complaining, though. Their clothes landed in a pile that was quickly growing on the floor and the detective was already panting before his pants were even off, it had been days since he'd been this aroused. "Lube's in the bottom drawer." he whispered while John licked and kissed his long neck and all Sherlock did was holding on tight to his shoulders.

"We won't be needing that yet." John teased and kissed a slow trail down his chest, over his belly were he dipped his tongue in his bellybutton that was about to pop and then continued lower. Sherlock whimpered when he felt the feathery kisses around his groin, just avoiding his eager cock. The soft lips and sent hot sparks in his loins and he fisted John's short hair. The man mouthed at the base of his shaft and the detective murmured and closed his mouth, this might just be too quick.

"Please, John." he whimpered and spread his legs. "I want you." He was painfully hard now and John wasn't really making nay good use of it. His wet mouth just kept making hollow kisses to his groin, not putting any attention to were it was needed the most and he grew impatient. "Please."

A warm hand wrapped around him and gave a wonderful thug, John's thumb brushed over the head and he sighed loudly before bucking into the touch. His legs were lifted over the strong doctor's shoulders and he was now completely open to anything which was frightfully intriguing. The well known lips pressed to his perineum and he could feel the stub on his face rasp against his sensitive skin which made it hard not to cry out. The first little squeak left him as a surprise and he heard John chuckle beneath him just as his skilful tongue flicked over his slit. Sherlock was shaking now and let out a deep breath to relax for whatever was coming next. The baby was kicking eagerly inside him and Sherlock found it somewhat disturbing that his unborn child found this just as exciting as him but there was no time to care about that, John's marvellous, wet tongue had already found his puckered entrance and licked back and forth with just enough pressure for the detective to go inside. The small whimpers leaving him was only getting louder and he tugged John's short hair to get him closer. The hand on his cock was still caressing slowly and it was almost painful now. He needed to come soon or every nerve and loin would explode or set him on fire. John was quick to work him open and soon enough his wet muscle were exactly where Sherlock wanted him, he moaned in abandon and rocked his hips to meet every squirm that tongue did inside him.

"Oh, oh god." he moaned and buried his head in the pillow. "John, please!" The hand worked quickly around his shaft by those words and Sherlock's back arched off the bed as he felt his stomach tighten. The climax came out of nowhere and white ribbons hit across his bump and on John's hand. He smothered his shouts behind gritted teeth and panted heavily before falling back on the pillow out of breath. "Oh, christ." he huffed and felt John leave the slot between his thigh.

"That was rather quick wasn't it?" he grinned and reached for his t-shirt on the floor to clean up the mess they'd made. Sherlock pried and eye open and looked down at John, felt his cheeks heating in embarrassment and his post-coitus state.

"I'm sorry." he breathed heavily and saw John wipe his mouth on the same shirt, but he didn't seem disappointed. In fact, he looked just as pleasured as Sherlock felt and the detective made his deduction. "Did.. did you.." John giggled and fell down beside him, crawled close to his side and wrapped his arms around him. His warm hand pressed to his bump where a very eager infant kicked and squirmed after all the pleasure his father'd been given and John smiled happily.

"I did." he laughed in embarrassment and Sherlock closed his eyes as the smile grew on his lips. "So you don't need to be sorry, love." A dark chuckle left the satisfied detective as he wrapped his arms around John as well and the couple cuddled as close as they could get with that bump taking place. John's had carded through his curls, slowly bringing him back into terrible tiredness and small kisses was placed on his face when the detective suddenly sighed loudly.

"I do love you, John." he reminded and drew small circles on his shoulder blade. "I won't let you believe differently."

"I know." John murmured happily and kissed his forehead and cheek. "I like that you don't say it everyday. It makes the words more special." Sherlock buried his face to John's chest and took a deep breath of his smell, listened to his heart beat and his deep breaths. He does love John, more than the doctor himself even might understand.

"Sherlock?" he whispered suddenly and reached for the blanket to drape it over them as they cuddled. The detective only hummed in response and wrapped his leg around John's. "We should start discussing about how we're gonna do this."

"Do what?" Sherlock murmured in response and yawned loudly.  
"Birth." John answered. "We should contact a doula. Someone who can be there to help us because it can't just be the two of us." Sherlock frowned and gave a disappointed pout.

"Why not?"

"I might be a doctor, but I'm not a midwife." John smiled and kissed the top of his head. "And I want to take care of you as my husband and not as my patient. And when our little son or daughter..."

"Son." Sherlock said quickly making his husband giggle.

"When our _son _decides to make his appearance I want to take care of you without being afraid of doing something that can danger you or our child's life because I don't know what I'm doing. Please, Sherlock, let us contact someone who can help us."

How much Sherlock didn't even want to he had to agree, even if he didn't want an unknown person poking around between his legs neither did he want John to feel uncomfortable. Maybe a doula was a good idea, and thinking about this more thoroughly it might even be a great one. With his or her help John would have his hands and mind over to comfort him if things turned out to be more frighting than he was expecting.

"Okay." he agreed tiredly and crawled up to John's eye level. "As long as he doesn't interfere to much or acts like an idiot." John laughed warmly and pressed a kiss to his nose.

"Thank you."

* * *

**So tell me what you think. Leave a review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Still haven't gotten my new glasses so I'm terribly sorry for all the errors that might be in here. I can't really see them. **

* * *

It was suddenly John's job to find a suitable doula and Sherlock had one simple request, it had to be a man. Sherlock had never had a woman poking around by his genitals and he would not let that chance ever and John could understand that. But finding a male doula was hard. Every contact he found was a woman between thirty and sixty and the chances seemed slimmer and slimmer until he suddenly stumbled upon a sight so buried in the internet he had to check if it was really a real site.

His name was Benjamin Tate. A man not much older than Sherlock and by reading his presentation page he might just be the person the were looking for. He had four years of experience of being a doula, wasn't there to interfere when he wasn't wanted or needed during birth and would only have as many meetings with the parents that they considered necessary. John didn't question himself twice before writing him a mail telling them about their situation, carefully explaining about this odd case and even posted some links to strengthen his story about male pregnancy to prove that he wasn't joking. He read it through three times before he posted one last link. The article in the papers that been printed when a journalist had seen Sherlock on a case. 'Famous detective's blooming' was the headline, just one more thing that would make Benjamin believe that he wasn't pulling his leg.

While he waited for a reply he called Greg again. It was time to move some furnitures and John had spent all morning cleaning out the room upstairs from boxes filled with old clothes and his previous one-man-bed. It might have needed a paint job but it could wait for now, they would certainly survive despite the holes in the walls and scratched papers.

Maybe Sherlock had fallen into some kind of early nesting, but he was actually helping. He'd spent two hours clearing their wardrobe from clothes to give to goodwill and putting the rest in boxes to bring upstairs. He's dismantled the bed frame and the mentioned wardrobe, ripped off the sheets and taken down all the paintings and pictures that would now get new walls to hang on. When he considered himself done, and left John rather impressed, he'd collapsed on the sofa with a tub of ice cream balanced on his bump.

"That was nice of you." John smiled and placed a glass of cold lemonade beside him, the summer heat was getting rather intriguing this day and Sherlock tried to keep himself as cold as possible to feel comfortable.

"It needed to be done." he said simply and forced a spoon full of toffy ice cream into John's mouth. "And you'll be done much quicker so I can start to paint." John nearly choked on the melting ice cream as he heard that and cleaned the corners of his mouth before he spoke.

"You'll paint?" he asked and swallowed the scoff that was about to force its way up his throat.

"Yes." Sherlock said and dug around in the tub to get the good pieces. "I can't really take any cases at the moment, the experiments I want to do might be considered dangerous so I thought that I would put my concentration on something else for a while." John smiled at the marvellous surprise and gave his belly a good rub.

"Sounds good." he smiled and pressed to the small bum that rested to the bottom inside Sherlock's stomach. "Hello, love. What are you up to in there?"

"He's sleeping at the moment." Sherlock answered and poked at his side with hard fingers.

"I bet you tired him out after all you've done this morning." John laughed and felt the little baby suddenly turn inside his husband making Sherlock groan by the nasty surprise. "Well' now he's awake." Sherlock scoffed and pressed to his side where the head was now resting and groaned a little when he realised what an odd shape his bump suddenly was given.

"Oh, teeny. Not like that." he complained and John giggled before he sat down beside him.

"You're calling him teeny?" he asked and pulled his shirt up a little.

"Yes, seems quite fitting at the moment and probably a year forward. He's a teeny person." His husband pressed a kiss to his temple and sighed happily. "Did you find any doula by the way?"

"Yes." John answered and placed his head on Sherlock's bony shoulder. "Benjamin Tate. I sent him a mail yesterday and he'll hopefully reply soon. He seemed perfect."

"That's good." he beamed and took another spoon of ice cream while John petted his uncovered bump. "As long as he doesn't interfere to much."

"His presentation sounded pretty good." John said. "Someone that you might handle even.

"That's good." Sherlock murmured and scraped the sides of the tub to get the good toffy bits when he suddenly choked on a groan and arched his back. "Oh god..." He dropped the spoon and rubbed his waist with eyes shit tight and clenched jaw.

"Kicking?" John asked with a smile and pushed back on the little fist that punched Sherlock's stretched skin.

"Right in the kidney." he groaned and let his head fall back to the wall. "Christ.."

"He's a real meany, isn't he?" John giggled and tried to calm the little feet that so eagerly punched Sherlock in his organs. "Hey, calm it or turn some other way. We can't have daddy in pain like this, can we?"  
There was a knock on the door and Sherlock pulled his shirt down before that someone managed to get a glimpse of his big bump and John removed his hand to get up and greet him. The door opened and Greg stepped inside, looking awfully daily in his clothing and the big smile on his lips that made Sherlock nauseous.

"Hello." he greeted happily and placed his toolbox on the floor. "Ready to get started?"

* * *

The moving was quick according to Sherlock who didn't lift a single thing. The detective listened to all the cursing and groaning as they carried the heavy mattress up the stairs and laughed silently as they tried to get it through the door. Their words could easily be confused with something obscene.

"More to the left. THE LEFT!"

"No, it's not gonna work! We need to angle it!"  
"That will be to tight, we'll just have to squeeze. C'mon, you pull and I'll shove." There was loud groaning and huffing and Sherlock closed his eyes while choking his laughs.

"Try to turn it a bit more! This way! YES!" A big bang echoed through the flat as the bed dropped to the floor and it wad followed by loud panting that only made Sherlock laugh harder. Dammit, he wasn't usually this easily amused. He leaned back on the sofa and wrapped his arms around his bump, caressed it lovingly while he thought of what was hiding in there.  
"Your father is a silly, man teeny." he whispered and pressed back on the eager feet. "Almost more silly than me. Hope you'll manage us both." The baby made a sudden jump inside him and Sherlock laughed. "What was that? Did I scare you?" Another jump and the detective giggled when they continued with regular intervals. "Are you having hiccups?" Well this was certainly new. Every ten seconds the little boy inside him twitched and Sherlock's cheeks had never hurt so much from smiling.

"John!?" he shouted without taking his eyes or hands off his bump.

"What!?"

"Get down here!"

"I can't right now."

"You kind of have to!" Sherlock shouted and realised he could even see it. Every jolt made his bump twitch and he giggled happily when he saw it. "John!?" He heard the quick steps thunder in the stairs and a second later a sweaty John stood in the doorway looking very worried from the urgent shouting.

"You okay?" Sherlock nodded and waved him over.

"Come." he smiled and rubbed his bump. "You need to feel this." The doctor frowned and made his way over when Sherlock latched onto his and and pressed it to his bump. "Right here." John gave him an odd look and sat down on the armrest of the sofa, pressed his warm hand to the bump and waited for god nows what, it wasn't like he hadn't felt kicks or movements before. The he felt exactly what Sherlock had felt, the small jolt that even made Sherlock's skin move. He looked up at Sherlock with wide, questioning eyes that made the detective grin. "He's got a hiccup." Another little jolt and everything started to clear in the doctors head.

"Oh my god." he giggled and placed both his hands on the bump before falling on his knees on the floor. "Look at that. Hello baby." He rubbed the swell firmly and observed with love every time Sherlock's stomach made a jump. "That's really cute. How does it feel?"

"Hard to explain." Sherlock chuckled and covered John's hands with his own. "Weird I guess. Like I've swallowed a frog." John grinned and placed a kiss on top of the bump.

"Doesn't surprise me." he beamed and got up from the floor. "Why don't you call for some takeout, whatever you want and me and Greg will just assemble the furnitures. Alright?" Sherlock just nodded and received a kiss before he hurried up the stairs again and nearly stumbled over the last step.

* * *

Sherlock nearly regretted the idea of moving the bedroom upstairs, sixteen extra steps wasn't something considered easy in his condition and he waddled heavily up the stairs and left out of breath when he finally reach the landing and John looked up from the sheets he'd just spread over the bed.

"You okay?" he asked nervously and puffed the pillows a little extra on Sherlock's side.

"Yeah." he panted and rubbed his aching back. "I'm fine. Just fine." He waddled heavily over to the bathroom and tracked the wall with a shaking hand before he fell over the sink with the corners of his eyes darkening. Knees buckled and he grabbed the sides of the counter.

"Oi! Sherlock!" John hurried across the floor and hooked him under his armpits before to set him down on the closed toilet. "What's going on? What are you feeling?" Sherlock took a huge breath and lifted his heavy head to look at his worried husband.

"I feel faint." he croaked and grabbed John's wrists. "Sorry. I just..." He cleared his throat and groaned when his head started spinning.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"No." he sighed and shook his head. "Don't worry, I just think my blood pressure dropped." John cupped his face and observed him thoroughly, took his pulse and checked his breathing. "John, I'm fine. I just need to lie down. It's been a stressful day."

"So no pains?" John asked firmly and rubbed his cheeks a little before letting go and taking his hands. The detective shook his head and let out a deep breath. "Okay. Just tell me if you feel like this again." The pain in his back worsened when John helped him up but he thought that a good night sleep would do it some good, after all he was the one who'd cleaned out the bedroom and had had a baby with hiccups all morning. Maybe it wasn't odd that his blood pressure was dropping drastically now when he was tired. His doctor led him out of the small bathroom and over to the bed where he slumped down on the mattress and stared up at the sloped roof that he hadn't slept under since he and John just fallen in love.

"This is gonna be odd." he sighed and felt how John tucked him in.

"What is?" John asked and rubbed his bump through the blanket.

"I might now know where I am when I wake up in the morning." John laughed and climbed over him to crawl down on the other side.

"That's ridiculous." he smiled and pulled the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled close to Sherlock, wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his stomach again. "Maybe the little one's having a grow spurt."

"Possible." the detective sighed and tried to get comfortable but the pain in his back didn't go away, and like that wasn't enough the baby was pushing back on his lungs and making breathing difficult. He rolled over on his side with his backside against his husband and yawned. "Give me a back rub." John laughed and pulled his shirt up to get close to his skin and pressed with a warm hand to the middle of his spine. There were no guidance needed before the doctor found the sore spot and Sherlock cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain. "Oh! Right there!" The warm palm rubbed a firm circle to the area and the detective pressed himself back. "That's perfect. Oh, god!" John giggled and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Two more months." he reminded him. "Just a few more weeks of this madness and then another one begins." With a small laugh Sherlock reached back his leg and caressed John's shin with his cold foot.

"I need another pillow." he sighed and John frowned. "My stomach is to heavy for me to lie on my side, I need to level it." The soft pillow hit him in the head and he gave a tired grunt. "Thank you." He placed it under his heavy bump at at once it became much easier to breathe. A thought hit his mind and he giggled tiredly. "D'you want to be called dad or... father... or papa maybe? We haven't really discussed that." The rubbing of his back came to a sudden end and the room fell awfully silent. Sherlock looked over his shoulder and saw John in deep thoughts, brows furrowed and nibbling his bottom lip.

"I don't know." he said eventually and picked up the rubbing. "I've never really thought about it. I think you should get first pick." Sherlock rolled over on his other side, brought the pillow to level the other side and looked straight at John.

"Maybe, but what d'you wanna be called?" The warm hand caressed his waist, felt the baby wiggle back and forth as he thought about what that little being would call him in the future. "It doesn't really matter to me but.. I thought it might to you." A smile twitched the corners of the doctor's lips as he heard those words and he looked straight at his beautiful husband while his heart pounded eagerly behind his ribs. It wasn't often he got to choose a title for himself, but this one seemed like the most important. This was what he was going to be called the rest of his life and he thought of the titles carefully. He took Sherlock's warm hands and kissed his fingers lovingly, suddenly very emotional about all this. Tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them away without success and Sherlock gave him a worried look.

"John?" he quaked and the doctor laughed behind the welling tears.

"Sorry." he smiled and gave a small sob before wiping some of his tears on the pillow. "I don't even know why I'm crying." The detective giggled and kissed his husband's wet cheeks.

"Did it just become very real to you?" he asked and nuzzled his nose.

"I guess it did." he laughed and sobbed shamelessly in front of his husband. "Oh christ..." He let go of one of his hands and rubbed his bump all over again, looked down between them with warm eyes. "We're having a baby, Sherlock."

"Yes we are, idiot." the detective smiled and joined his hand. "Against all the odds." A loud sigh left the shaken doctor and he moved forward until his forehead met Sherlock's.

"I wanna be papa." he whispered happily. "If that's okay with you." The detective hummed happily and nodded.

"I wanted to be daddy anyway." he answered and made his husband grin behind the tears. "Shut up, John. Now you're just silly."

"I know." John laughed and wiped his tears. "Sorry. I'll shut up now." He crept closer and kissed his husbands perfect lips, hugged him tightly and swallowed the rest of his tears. "I love you, Sherlock." With a small sigh and a big smile the detective caressed his wet cheek and wrapped his leg around his.

"Feelings are mutual, John."

* * *

It was John's cellphone that woke them the next morning and Sherlock's eyes flew open only to see the sloped roof and the small window. It took a second before he remembered and he groaned in regret when he remembered the stairs he had to walk every day now. The phone rang again and this time John started to move from his side and he flung out his arm to get a hold of the small device on the side table.

"Hello?" he sighed and sat up on the bed.

"Yes, hello. Is this John Watson?" John frowned and rubbed his eye.

"Yes, it's me."

"Oh good. I'm Benjamin Tate. You sent me an email." John woke up quickly and pulled the cover off him to get up.

"Yeah, hi!" he chimed and stepped into his slippers. "Sorry, we just woke up."

"Oh, shit. Sorry. This might be a little early. D'you want me to call back later?"

"No, it's alright." John grinned and left the room to let Sherlock sleep a little longer. "I was getting up anyway." The man on the other line gave a small chuckle and he could hear the tapping on a computer.

"So, I just read your mail and um... I just wanted to say that I would gladly help you with the little one's arrival." A smile grew on John's lips by those words and he hardly noticed when he started his daily routine with the boiler and getting mugs ready for tea.

"Well, that's very good news." he said happily and put it the teabags.

"Yeah, I was a little surprised that you contacted me since I actually read your blog."

"Really?" John laughed and leaned back to the counter after pouring himself a glass of juice.

"Yeah. I and when I read your entry about your husbands pregnancy I nearly fainted since me myself gave birth to a little boy five years ago." He nearly choked on his drinks when he heard those words, Benjamin laughed on the other side, clearly not surprised by this.

"Sorry." John coughed. "I just didn't see that coming."

"Not many people do." the man on the line laughed. "So all that convincing in your mail wasn't really necessary. But what d'you say? Should we say a date this week just so I can give you some information about what I can do for you or would you rather do it over phone?"

"I think a meeting would be better." John said and poured the steaming water into the cups. "But a small warning though, my husband isn't really good with people. Don't let him scare you off. He's a good man, it's just his Aspergers that makes him sort of unsociable."

"Don't worry." Benjamin beamed. "It feels like I know you both after reading your blog. I promise, I'm not one of those annoying fans but helping you two would be a real privilege."

"That sounds good." John chuckled and rubbed the side of his face. "Well, thank you, really. And I'm sure that Sherlock is just as pleased as I am."

The set a time and date next week and John wrote it down on the wall planner hanging beside the fridge when he heard the stairs creak under Sherlock's weight. The very tired man entered the kitchen in his pyjamas and the silky robe draped around his shoulders.

"God morning." John sang and dropped two spoons of sugar in one of the cups. "Did you sleep well?" With a groan the detective stretched his crackling back before taking the cup with sweetened tea and nodding.  
"I couldn't really place where I was the first second but.." he sighed and took a sip. "I have slept up there since you and I started having sex. Was that the doula?" John followed him out to the sitting room and fell down beside him in the sofa.

"Yes, and believe it or not but our doula actually had a baby of his own five years ago." This information didn't seem to surprise Sherlock who only continued to sip his hot tea.

"I figured." he said simply and signed for the clicker on the table. "Turn on the news, will you?"

* * *

**I know, I'm surprised to of how quickly this update came. Hehe. Leave a review and tell me if you liked it. **


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